Saturday, March 13, 2021

Soon Update

 soon 


soon our children will be grandparents 
some of us will be forgotten 
our bodies will turn into trees 
history will ride the breeze 
memories will whistle in the wind 
wrestle through the leaves 
leaves will fall to the grass 
the past will grow on the floors of dense woods 
our children will follow our paths 
some pass through apple orchards 
some tortured paths will lead back to tortured paths 

soon I will come to pass 
through the spyglass 
kaleidoscope stained glass dances in the contrast of the invisible sun 
it seems this day has barely begun 
I already breathe in the afternoon 
my lungs fill like balloons 
a purple one 
a blue one 
tomorrow seems close at hand 
yesterday seems years away 
eternity not far away 


I will soon be old with cane 
cold with pain 
behold the strain in my spoken choice 
the dust in my old broken voice 
rust in my veins 
rusty chains restrain the balloons in my chest 
my breath dressed in Sunday’s best 
June
my heart naps, eternal rest




it was my hope that it would be taken by the weather and so it has been


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