PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sunday on the Hillside

Rain threads the green expanse in silver, 

each drop a whispered footnote to memory. 

You and I stand beneath that vast quiet— 

hands half-lifted, as if to pray.

The long stone walls hold the summer’s promise, 

moss-soft and patient against our murmurs. 

Your voice comes slow, a benediction 

to the ache of what is gone and what remains.

Around us, the hillside breathes in gentle hymns, 

ferns bowing in the draught of consecration— 

and I learn again how love can rise like dawn, 

even when all night’s shadows press close.

.