Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Like Parting Friends...

Like parting friends, soft we let go
The rush of Time is bittersweet
As it touches the poet’s song
In cadences of ‘no repeat’

We toast its triumph, weep its loss
And carry on, no refuge lies
In some forgotten interlude
Where we can pause past’s transfixed prize

The cottage hearth where children played
Will soon be silent, save for cheers
Of ticking clock and echoed days
Lost somewhere in Time’s sweeping years

How tenderly we touch the air
For this we know, its moment-mien
Claims little girls with golden curls
And little boys of carefree grin

A visceral, intrinsic zeal
Interweaves every season-smile
Futile to quietly appeal
To ticking clocks to pause a while

Thus we linger, perhaps to taste
A moment longer Time’s delight
Before it succumbs to the haste
Of centuries sealed from our sight

Like parting friends we tarry ere
Farewell satisfies its demands
Darling, methinks I feel you where
A sea of echoes sweeps Time’s sands

© Janet Martin

John Clare wrote some of my most-beloved poetry...here is a beautiful stanza from his poem December...

...and many a thing, a minute's sport
Left broken on the sanded floor
When we would leave our play and court
Our parents' promises for more
Tho' manhood bids such raptures die
And throws such toys aside in vain,
Yet memory loves to turn her eye
And count past pleasures o'er again...


  1. Beautiful and precious this life....nature...and the time we are given....this is beautiful as always Janet! :-)


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