… and,
Oh
The faces
Young-again,
Old-once Janus
Parades before
Our inner eye
Heavy rain:
Drip for the garden,
Drop for the lawn:
Drum roll for the garden,
Refreshing frogpaddle pond,
Falling future for
Sun-parched ground.
I’m remembering a
Storm-hammered, crowded,
Noisy, light blue bus
Leaving a street market
In Yesterday’s-Gone,
No-Promise country;
A lover’s farewell:
“The skies cry,”
Biting back youngblood tears,
Biting passion-bruised lips,
“When good friends part.”
Drip for the past,
Drop for the present,
Drum-roll for the memory,
Reviving yesterday’s dancers,
Refreshing history’s dreams.
31/7/2013
Photo: www.newtopwallpaapers.com
From a distance
She was a
dancing girl
I met on a
Bus to Venice.
Finding much in common
And shelter in laughter
On the short journey
We were piazza
Supper partners that evening,
Witnessed the new
San Marco moon
Hand in hand…
Were gentle lovers
By sunrise.
Such memories disturbed
By mistaken identity
And longing.
25/6/2013
Perhaps
Patience destroys love,
Destroys love
And lovers.
Perhaps
Waiting for
The right moment,
Throwing beauty
After the beautiful
Is always wasted.
But it’s
Still patience,
Still beauty,
Still beautiful.
27/7/2012
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