It's not a poem but its more of a .... saying. I usually say.
All views can't be seen as "right " or "wrong"
Black or White
for the world is full of Beautiful colours
those that are close minded
Heres a poem!
Loves memoryhas traced our outline in this place.
But will the spider remember ,or the sun?
Did the water capture our faces in permanence?
Does the wind create us anew as it blows?
Did the shadows from trees record our passage beneath them?
Our secret has been revealed.
Yet I have told no other.
I write these words in silence, in mute testimony.
To what once was.
But our image remains alive in this place.
It can not be removed.
We saw the day and hoped for tomorrow.
We caught a brief glimpse of love's promise.
We were not liars,
but thieves of time.
For now time has now forgotten us,
Yet our memory lingers, and love remembers.
This place that was ours.
Children of Seven:
Why do lovely flowers bloom from the cherry tree?
Childeren of seven waking, smile at the sun.
Whydo fragrant blossoms stir in the mountain hill.
Children of seven laughing, run through the wood.
Why do crimson branches dance for the village streets?
Children of seven singing, call down the wind.
Why do wilting flowers fall from the cherry tree?
Children of seven, dieing, to wake once more.