S. D.

Sappho is a friend much older still
  And Homer is a teacher keen
Fickle people come and go at will
  But ancient words since long have been

Words can wound and words can cure
  But at the end all words are wind
Like dreams they flutter by and lure
  To dip you into ice and singe
Now they boast, now come demure
  To keep you guessing what they hint
They mutter and they whisper – sure:
  Those whispers lend a lasting tint
At times they echo clear and pure
  To rival Moon they wax and shrink!
Yet come the morn they no more ’dure
  But turn to ash right as you cringe

Deceptive ’s the talk of those alive
  But when some words are put in print
They turn to truth and ever thrive
  As ages change in one eye blink

Yet warmer do come words of wind
  From lips that are still warm and breathe
And eyes to gaze instead of ink
  Assure one that oneself has lived

2018

S. D.

More poems by the author:
Dimensions 17.9.2022
Two poems on nature 21.4.2022
Four sad poems 21.4.2022
Ruin (Baldr’s dream) 25.2.2022
Ancient 15.2.2022
Four pagan hymns 25.1.2022