Between the hills runs
A moonlit silver ribbon.
Where does the road lead?
A moonlit silver ribbon.
Where does the road lead?
Copyright 2010 Alain Millon
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Steps by the Bank
You are
Like a tall mountain
Stands
Valleys at its feet
And dark forests reaching
Up
Hidden under deep snow
Or covered with rocks
Beauty resting in blue hues
Summit covered in ageless frost
While
You give
Scents of winter and spring,
(Summer being an illusion
And fall an end)
I think
Of
Streams running wild
(Amidst all)
Torrentially descending toward the
Sea
At last
Like a tall mountain
Stands
Valleys at its feet
And dark forests reaching
Up
Hidden under deep snow
Or covered with rocks
Beauty resting in blue hues
Summit covered in ageless frost
While
You give
Scents of winter and spring,
(Summer being an illusion
And fall an end)
I think
Of
Streams running wild
(Amidst all)
Torrentially descending toward the
Sea
At last
Copyright 2010 Alain Millon
Melody
Ask this river
To come to a standstill?
Demand for the sun
To hide?
You may.
But
My thoughts,
Like dandelion seeds,
Float
From a music box
Through an open window.
To come to a standstill?
Demand for the sun
To hide?
You may.
But
My thoughts,
Like dandelion seeds,
Float
From a music box
Through an open window.
Copyright 2010 Alain Millon
It Is
It is
An insider
In the depth of oceans,
In warm waters,
And in the freezing cold.
It is a silent answer,
The light,
The stars.
It is not a what
But a who,
Not just a hold,
A long gaze,
A smell or a touch,
A caress, a kiss,
An olive branch,
A promise,
Or an embrace,
It is whole.
It is
A part of each cell,
A longing for,
A sadness and a joy,
An exchange,
A sharing in.
It is a presence,
An absence, invisibility,
Tears, smiles and laughter.
It is all that
And much more,
For it is
Love.
An insider
In the depth of oceans,
In warm waters,
And in the freezing cold.
It is a silent answer,
The light,
The stars.
It is not a what
But a who,
Not just a hold,
A long gaze,
A smell or a touch,
A caress, a kiss,
An olive branch,
A promise,
Or an embrace,
It is whole.
It is
A part of each cell,
A longing for,
A sadness and a joy,
An exchange,
A sharing in.
It is a presence,
An absence, invisibility,
Tears, smiles and laughter.
It is all that
And much more,
For it is
Love.
Copyright 2010 Alain Millon
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