Of Memory-shapes

These are the days by which years disappear

Breath-breadth battalion tick-tocks commandeer

Through blue-eyed summers and winter-white-scapes

Fixed panorama of memory shapes

Past-soldered bastion, how doth thy hold swell?

Ever the ingress of moment-farewell

No thief can enter nor trespasser stray

Where life-lost legions wisp-whisper away

Good-night, good-morning and good-afternoon

Girls become women somehow in this tune

While women wonder just how it can be

Time turns its pages so inaudibly

Break my heart gently, oh traitor, be kind

Help me to love without fearing good-bye

For none can still the hand clocks commandeer

Shaping the hour soft-shaping a year

© Janet Martin

We had a long good-night hug, Victoria and I because its our last hug while she's thirteen. When she wakes up she will be fourteen.