November 10, 2019

• fading flowers

   

  

  one by one, these autumn days
  are stripped away
  by an unseen wind. dreams
  locked so mutely in the heart
  perhaps are lost forever,
  and unlike the fading flowers,
  they are not renewable.

  the night comes like a lone stranger,
  uncertain of its way, and the dawn
  shrinks the soul with its pollyanna
  optimism, all make-believe, egocentric,
  in the face of twisted trees, victims
  of reality's winds.

  the ash tree bows over the balcony,
  like a thoughtful man brooding
  over dark events and the treacherous
  aftermath of a bright mirror shrouded
  in a storm's black cloth.  but no one's life
  is perfect. it is senseless to maneuver
  around furniture in an unlighted house.

  best to leave them as they are:
  blurred, unclear shapes
  from the past, be they gems
  or garbage, in the subsurface
  of your heart's shifting, changing sea.
  let's just do as we have always done--
  and get on with
  this bewildering business of living

  • 11:41 am
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