A Prayer
by Paul Lee
Sunset slowly rolls
over the hills
As deep and sad as dying lips.
When music with unsung
words comes,
I become a dead leaf.
And a she-wolf, crying devil,
goes
Running on the autumn field.
I meet wandering tales of night
In
a remote village.
My anxious echo weeps
As the village churchbell
tolls.
A train comes passing by
With sounds of aged legs.
Forgotten memory leads me
To the brooklet of small nature
And the
soft touch of clouds in the sky.
Life is a romance in pains.
