We are drawn to the ones who went before
And to an identical fate only made ours
By some indelible personal trait, a choice
We make that like a birthmark signifies.
Our lids are heavy with sentiment, eyes
Longing to close on dreams which wait
Only imprimatur of unique lore
To make fabulous the solitary life.
Our dreams are linked with theirs
(We were the dreams and they now ours)
And the passage of time drowses
Until, at death, time (and we) stand still
While a mother watches her child
Watching her mother we all watch
The merry-go-round whirl, shine, slow,
Subside in the loss of its own going.
(Lord, how we love the resonance,
Lord, how we loved the ride.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment