Sunday, October 2, 2016


That careful work of bloom is rent
Time takes its toll on living things
It dulls hulled heath and pulls night’s tent
Across long, pink-glossed evenings

The aftermath that time begets
Is scarlet-amber-hunger hued
Dusk-skylines highlight silhouettes
Where laughing leaves become unglued

Into the vat of that and this
The fruit of what we had is tossed
The wine of life is what it is
A vintage pressed with moments lost

Darling, before these dwindled hours
Once we were sassy as spring’s breeze
But now we empathize with flowers
That bow beneath grief-stricken trees

We are not foot-loose dreamers now
But, perhaps here and there we gaze
With careful envy at the plow
That tilled a field of yesterdays

© Janet Martin

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