Upon the ground where shadows lie
And dampness from the solemn sky
Through all the seasons passing by
The path just gathers moss.
Beneath the tree that changes shade
As autumn nears and summer's bade
Farewell for now the promise made
Bequeaths a sense of loss.
But as it grows forever green
The emerald has lost its sheen
Where once the days were so serene
Now nothing more than dross.
Now as my tears fall to the floor
And where the sunlight shines no more
Yet here I'll wait I know not for
Where dreams just gather moss.
ANDREW BLAKEMORE
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moss-2/
