If you slow down, listen closely with just one ear,
Some carry life stories that you will never hear.
They are the old souls of the family sharing,
Burdens of past generations yet still living.
All they want is some of your time and to be heard,
Yet, today’s youth are just too rushed to hear their word.
They come from foundations built on their character,
Where today’s youth believe they’re just a visitor.
Once they pass their tales to tomorrow’s storytellers,
It’s held in long-term memory as if they’re dwellers.
By now, yesterday’s storytellers are long gone,
Leaving you today’s generation to count on.
Their scattered thoughts are seamlessly pieced together,
Hoping to share it at the next get-together.
Oddly, tradition and tales have made full circle,
As they tell their tales, I heard our angels’ chortle.
Now seeing their painting complete on the canvas,
Yet something in their souls still remains unfinished.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment