Silk Strings

These cold days remind me of a warm place,
Like a fire burning in the fireplace,
Memories stoke the fire burning in my heart;

Memories of working in the rice and barley fields,
Tea fields where white jasmine flowers bloom. 
Singing songs for everything, 

Memories of the cold air, swirling around me gave me chills.
Wife and children, love and hope to warm my bones.

Writing these words about my impossible past,
The past that exists in my dreams,
The place I praise every day with words.

You know that even when dark dust blankets the land,
Heavy rains will wash away the dust,
And bring high, bright blue skies.

I see the young traveling this land today,
Some happy some sorrowful,
Always singing,

Singing songs of the past and present,
Binding time and space together,
With strings of silk.
 

Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.