Middle-age Mother's Musing...

To let go without losing wonder

To sense on the tense tides of change

So much yet to master and ponder

So much yet for time to estrange

Where torn between worlds past and future

The present runs rife with life’s charge

And wounds that no surgeon can suture

Slashed deep in the heart of the barge

Where it is too late to untangle

Loosed threads that have severed their ties

While we are still trying to wrangle

The rebel that rouses our sighs

And rushes like winds through the wild woods

Charging like a maddened platoon

That crushes the bloom of lost childhoods

To shards shaped like echoes of June

Where oft, like a soft summer’s vesper

Time’s Maestro immerses the breeze

With murmurs of morrow and yester

Of maybes and memories

© Janet Martin