Lowlands

Going past the lines of trees in the low lands

Single thought comes across my mind

It was the day we gently held hands 

With no word or meaning to find

The crunch of snow in blue sky morning

We laughed at whatever each said

Then by noon with each of us leaving

A farewell kiss put this love to bed

A woodland dream

A lake of steam

The silent answer

A field of corn

A love forlorn

The hidden cancer

And in the end

You were my friend

The pretty dancer

In the long lines of trees in the low lands

My soul refreshed with memories

It was as if I could feel your hands 

I never thanked you for the stories.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2018 Rose Riversongs.

Just a dream

Determined to make it right
Though love was out of sight
And the touch of real flesh,
Just a dream.



The memory of her was fresh
Like a whisper of warm breath.
But now what to do next
Only dream?

He got out his pen to write her
But just stared at the paper
The hollowness took over
His own dream.



So where could she be right now?
“I love her” he said out loud
Yet no one heard him
Just his dream.

So instead he lost himself
In work and books on self-help
Love still did exist somewhere
Just
in
a….
........Dream.

By Dave Schipper © 2009 Rose Riversongs
Photo Credit 1 Photo2 Photo 3