We gather on a green mezzanine
And for lack of good news
We reminisce
A collection of wayfarers
En route
To what no longer is
This thoroughfare is a smattering
Of this and that
And this
Yet we are transfixed
In the chattering
Not of what was, but is
Life’s relentless rendering
Of bud to bloom
Soon lies
In ever-expanding
Tombs; its rooms
Beneath a sweep of skies
Deeds, like seeds are capsules
Of much more
Than they might seem
Life's little season-vestibule
Is more
Than 'but a dream'
We are all newcomers
To this reunion
On the grass
Like petals of a summer
Where all things come
...to pass
© Janet Martin
This is one of my favorites from your recent writings. The third and fourth stanzas are particularly memorable.
ReplyDeletethank-you, this was a fun piece. I never know for sure where a train of thought will go but I did enjoy this.There's something about relaxed writing time; a rarity right now! I had an unexpected week off of babysitting due to flu at their house so I snatched a little extra writing time...
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your words:)