Writing Days Of Oblivion

is a way to make the bird define the length of its flight
fearing there will be too much to cast back in what's meant to be
just poems of the past looking for the words of the future
both spelled in moments caught like treasure pearls
sealed deep withing the shells of silence
singing with the waves 'we've got nothing to conceal
but what you hear is not what we really reveal'
just as I make 700th circle on the tree trace
to define the age of its growth towards the sky
I stay deaf towards a benevolent warning to forget
because if we forget it will be forgotten
even if what one gives is so rarely the thing taken

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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