Saturday, August 24, 2013

Of Farewells and Kisses

No rustling of garments, no prints in the grass
No slamming of doors, yet how surely you pass
Hiding in daydreams, in midnight’s still dark
Brushing the morning and tuning the lark

You take our hand while we, quite unaware
Allow you to run rampant years through our hair
As we clutch the reins of duty and desire
You touch hills and plains with your autumnal fire

Ah, where do you come from and where do you go?
Where is the spigot from which moments flow?
Down from the heavens and out to a sea
Empires of soundless supremacy

No one can subdue your arabesque clout
Travail and triumph pour from the same spout
Yet in the mute, mystic, maddening sweep
Of constant departure, we find things to keep

Time; you leave tender trophies in your path
Echo of dances in your aftermath
Locket where laughter, love, learning and grace
Softens your stubble as you kiss our face

© Janet Martin

1 comment:

  1. Glorious, especially "brushing the morning and tuning the lark"......and time's kiss on our faces.


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!