Perhaps I should have cradled it
Like a dove
Kept it safe with tender love
But I squandered it -
Gushing-blundering-raging
Like a wild mountain stream
Desperate for an ocean
That was but a distant dream.
...I just never thought
That I could have loitered in the shallows
Reflecting the blueness of the sky
- Concealing silver fishes
- Quietly biding my time
- Stretching it out.
And so, and so it's gone now
- My ephemeral youth
- That precious once only gift
- That honeyed sweetness,
Leaving only the trembling resonance
Of distant echoes
From half-remembered hills.
5 comments:
So very wistful......
LIBBY Wistful...yes. That's one of my favourite words and I was trying to create that sort of mood in this poem.
I love this poem, N.T.! May I have your permission to include it in my sidebar, with attribution? If not just now, perhaps at some future time? I will understand, of course, if you say no.
R.BRAGUE Esquire...I humbly accept the honour of being located in your sidebar and am glowing with pleasure that you "got" this poem. Thank you kind sir.
Perhaps you spent your youth in headlong rushing to grow up and out. But look at you now! Understanding precious life, investing your energy in people, putting your camera to work gathering those self same feelings that some feel in youth and then let go of. But, oh, not you...or me for that matter. Now, now when we are whole and wise we can see what our hearts feel. Some people live their whole lives and never "get" it. We get it, my friend.
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