The morning mist dwarfs houses, it
weighs down the soul, but eventually
the sun broke though. On nearby
terraces, the sunshines brightly,
while below children play a timeworn
game of marbles. A yellow shooter is
winning, the sack holding the days
catch grows larger.
On the beach nearby two young
lovers, bask in the warm June-wind;
and to the north there is a field
freshly plowed. The farmer stands
filled with joy, wishing that time
world would stand still. His eyes
brimming, he looks at the Heavens
While this happiness wraps the
day in joy, there is distress in
the world. Somewhere, a
multitude of mourners sees
nothing but evil and the end!
Warmth, light, and joy have
passed them. It would take
only one man to undim the
hours; his courage, yet,
is entwined in hatred.
The day finished, the moon
shines brightly, clear, a
tranquil sphere. In the
distance beyond the beach,
the waves whirl wildly, rolls
mournfully; they shiver and
die at beach edge. Mother
Earth shed tears of sorrow,
and prays for tomorrow.
Many of her children lie
frozen and dead in faraway
places; they fall on the
burning breast of the now.
A wild rose climbs up the
moldering walls. The funeral
music is sad! The melancholy
tones touch the most sobering
heart. The unforgotten voice
wanders from the world back
to their ancient home.
All hopeless, the music beats
upon my ears again and again.
Then the melancholy tones
become sweet and still, lute-like
tones blew a thrilling summons
into my ears. The lost heart, its
life-blood spills, sleep dearest one.
Author’s books at Amazon.com and Barnes & Nobel.com under the name Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree.