Poetry Monday

I Sit and Think



I sit beside the fire and think


of all that I have seen,


of meadow-flowers and butterflies


in summers that have been;






Of yellow leaves and gossamer


in autumns that there were,


with morning mist and silver sun


and wind upon my hair.






I sit beside the fire and think


of how the world will be


when winter comes without a spring


that I shall never see.






For still there are so many things


that I have never seen:


in every wood in every spring


there is a different green.






I sit beside the fire and think


of people long ago,


and people who will see a world


that I shall never know.






But all the while I sit and think


of times there were before,


I listen for returning feet


and voices at the door.






John Ronald Reuel Tolkien