The swaths of bracken bronzing
Into nestled corm to sleep
Amid the thistle and scrub pine
Giving way to watery
Bogs, to kettle lakes
Rimmed by boulders and outcroppings.
We drive consumed by shouting silence
Of conversation unimagined
When we were young and
Starting off in a world
Undimmed by so much peril.
But I still carry him, although
He's gone forever, leaving
Memory in the stillness of my heart,
Ahead of days that roll uncertain
Into a dark where no light shines.
And yet a door was opened once,
And I will never close it,
Meanwhile the maple and the birch trees
Shed their leaves,
My season metamorphose
As with theirs, because
All things must change,
Although for some of us,
All things will stay the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment