4evr Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Nothing adorns and decorates
a pewter concrete face.
The Moon shines listlessly
its dim and yellow light
onto the thoughts that rise
to enter small eternal folds
of cold crevasses, dark.
He pauses by the fields
and ponders life itself.
No lightning strikes,
no thunder spoils the night,
and silence reigns
above the mist,
where human hands just raised
remain unseen.
He feels it now
but knows within his heart
that raindrops bring no joy
to those who stand alone,
and words,
etched into stone
will weather storms
but fade
before forever takes his hand.