Perhaps it was early morning, just before the dawn.

Or maybe, early evening just after the sun is gone.

The hour doesn’t really matter, nor does the day.

For I remember the sky, was sentimental grey.

I walked upon the path less traveled.

I moved through myself and back again.

Unraveling my many mysteries,

until I could call myself a friend.

It has been years since that moment,

when time seemed to stand still.

Yet it remains in my memory.

Not as a blazon fiery sun,

that  paints the heart red with heat.

But more like a cool, solemn, shady place

where cool waters spill over for my feet.

Waters  that give life, and are filled with power and knowledge.

Waters that quench our thirst then run away.

I remember, my mood was sentimental grey.

I traveled through the wood that entered into Eden.

The breeze was warm and whispered,

sweet  nothings  in my ears.

I thought I could hear the voices of children laughing.

Perhaps it was only a nearby brook, babbling.

Perhaps, only the rustling of leaves,

the echoed voices of nature,

blowing on the breeze.

I remember that I was lost and found that day.

When the sky and I, were sentimental grey.

KEP   01/23/02