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  • By Daniel Leach

Late Afternoon

My spirit is lost in the late afternoon,

As it drifts with the shadows that float in the air;

It lives in the moment that dies all too soon,

Like the sunbeams that play on a little girl’s hair.

One part of it carelessly moves with each change,

While one on another the visions are flying,

The other is seized with a feeling so strange,

And clings to each sight like a man who is dying.

The sound of the laughter of children at play,

The sight of young lovers who gaze longingly,

The feel of the heartbeat and pulse of the day,

Like the silent thoughts none but a spirit would see.

For the memory of what forever is lost,

Must color the visions that flow to the mind,

And make one like those who death’s river have crossed

And come back to haunt what the heart left behind.

Daniel Leach is a poet living in Houston, Texas. He has spent much of his life fighting for the ideals of classical culture and and poetry. His two collections of poetry are entitled Voices on the Wind & Places the Soul Goes.

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