Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Of Rocking Chairs and Roving Years

Fleet through our grasp, blithe bleeds this gasp of air
Far-gone, those fair, forever days of youth
Where dreamers undeterred by seasoned truth
Smiled past those wizened words from rocking chairs
And hands work-worn; for all the world was theirs

…where castles in the clouds sparkle and gleam
Bright eyes fixed on a prize unmarred by scars
Moments spill steppingstones out to the stars
And they, the dancers on time’s merry stream
Transfixed upon its readjusted dream

Those dusty, lusty days dissolve somehow
The rocking-chair seems programmed to repeat
Old wisdom where new sages fill its seat
Their tongues still burning with the afterglow
Of all they thought they knew but didn’t know

How, when all is done are dreams defined?
After time’s trip-and-falling growing pains  
As we grasp at the gasp of what remains
 The rocking-chair echoes as years unwind
'All we can give is what we leave behind'

© Janet Martin

1 comment:

Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit!