a poem by Lila Joseph, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

The babbling of a brook over stones
carrying pebbles
picked up somewhere high above.
Not yet tired of this game,
she tumbles them further,
singing and swinging
like your voice yesterday;
chattering on,
carrying pieces of wisdom
learned in years gone and forgotten
even by you ;
words divided in lessons
that have lost their meaning,
rubbed off by time.
Yet, tirelessly, your voice carries them,
and friction sometimes forms
diamonds from nonsense.
they cut through my disdain
and rest where they fall
to brood, huddled together.
Unnoticed, they work their magic;
with the passing of time, they become
an essential part of me:
Clinging Ivy.

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