Luca Menin


Heritage


Seated on the bench
Thinking about nothing
in peace with my sense
Of trite memories the head faints
Heritage of the world,
the river flow
the robin hop,
the morning crop
the wilds flowers that colour the world
Giant green trees hide
on the silky marked sky
The Murmur of the blind wind sighs
The reflection of the shadows
breathing water and fire
The young night
the profile of an eagle eye
Looking above at the countless stars glow,
shrouded in black silk vest
where the heritage of our past rests

Submitted: Saturday, May 31, 2014

Topic of this poem: nature


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