The old ways call, the rhyming line,
A comfort sweet, a gentle sign.
Of love and loss, of sun and rain,
The well-worn paths, again, again.
But still, a whisper in my ear,
'Beyond the known, is there no fear?
To seek a theme, unseen, unheard,
A brand new bloom, a whispered word? '
No grand ambition lights my way,
Just hobby's joy, at end of day.
To dig and search, to try and find,
A different truth for heart and mind.
For change is breath, and life is wide,
And in new paths, fresh dreams reside.
No single song, my soul shall keep,
But varied blooms, in slumber deep.
Tor M. Solvang
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem