The waning edge of daylight’s dwindling sigh
Dissolves as blue on deeper blue descends
Until tangent and intangible blends
The hues that draw the line twixt earth and sky
Where we are held in Time’s delicate glance
A little while, to taste life’s wander-lust
Poured in a glass; the bitter-sweet romance
Of vintage dream’s before they turn to dust
And aspirations of our untried youth
Like cull of hull have borne the fruit of truth
The inevitable begins to yield
What our resistance cannot keep at bay
For who can brush the dusk from yonder field
Or pluck from it the rendering of a day
Or who can quell the echo of a sigh
As love employs its impetuous rush
Against the darkness of the midnight sky
Vexing the onyx void of star-frothed hush
Where ebb and flow of retrospect endears
The whisper of its memory in our ears
On yonder brink the morn of morrow waits
The oracle of hope and mystery
But none succeeds the hour to pry its gates
Or knows the formula of what it will be
We have only this moment on our tongue
To taste its offerings of salt and blood
Before too soon we are no longer young
Touching the footprints where our fathers stood
And murmuring as those who’ve gone before
How swift this little life-time is no more
© Janet Martin
Today someone mentioned how at a certain point in life suddenly it hits you that no matter how old we get, life is short and passes quickly...something we cannot grasp when we are young. This afternoon I convinced those who were home to come on a walk with me and when they asked 'why?' I told them to spend time together and to make a memory, because after all is said and done, memories are the only thing we can keep. This poem is a sort of collection of those thoughts.
