Johnnie D Jones

Reflection before Words

Within the thoughts of yesterday's anger
This moments haste of words spoken.
Forgotten, now of friends  who stand beside
Lost within tears once cried
Once what was given, nows stands silent upon the lost.
So tread soft and gentle upon tomorrows time of dreams
For a friendship once lost may never again be.


Yesterday's Child

Within the arms of what once was,
comes now Yesterdays Child.
Bringing the hopes and dreams
of times long past into the hands
of what is now to be.
With eyes that see the innocence of youth.
Yet touch ever so gently the wisdom of age.

For yesterdays child has yet to feel
the pain of tomorrows loss.
So with true abandonment
the child walks the pathways of dreams.
Lost within the moments of once again,
believing that all is possible.
In a world that has forgotten,
what once  was to be.

Take hold ever so lightly
the hand of yesterdays child.
For within the journey lies ones true soul.
Walk hand in hand but for a single moment.
For the moment is forever lost in memory.
And now belongs to Yesterdays Child.

A Rose, A Memory

Within the endless abyss of silence or in moments of when the world seems lost to reason.
To a single rose and a memory my soul transcends the confines of the season.
For a single rose I never gave yet a loss that I shall hold until the passing of the grave.
Upon the ever so temperate hands of time I commend to yesterday my
heart for only there do I exist within the warmth of eyes an the strength of your smile.
Strength, tranquility, all that I can be laid before the sands of time upon which only I can see,
yet my footsteps will never again be.
A rose, A memory, my soul does wonder the paths of what was, only to be lost in what is.
As with the sands of time, memories are but portions of yesterdays passing.
Whispers of moments in one's life, footsteps in the sand everlasting.
Walk ever so gently within my thoughts for they are of things that I shall never again be.
Along the pathways of what was not a single rose shall one find.
Yet within the morning mist not one step can be made that one cannot
perceive the shadow of a single rose.
For each step taken is only in the endless haze of yesterdays memory.
Where like a gentle river to the sea so love still flows.
Within the edge of once upon a time I stand in wonderment of the
gentleness that was, yet tremble in the weariness of the journey that is.
A rose, A memory, one will never see, the other shall forever be...

Always A Way Home


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