Can Time Erode? Poem by James Walter Orr

Last night, old memories spoke to me, of when
I walked these wooded paths. Each lonesome trail,
I searched for something to perhaps curtail
those cravings nature gave me, way back then.

How sweet the longings that a tortured soul,
can wrap up in the fabric of a dream.
How strong desires and needs can always seem,
accompanied by none to fit the role.

When nature’s byplays serve us to remind:
two rabbits in the boulders making love;
the mating call of lonesome mourning dove;
the screaming of a hawk, answered in kind.
Each male of every species is imbued
with flames of passion, burning multi-hued.

I come back to the present from the past,
to which my thoughts had drifted: now they leave;
I wipe my misted eyes; I can’t conceive
that ties so strong endure the time that’s passed.

Each pathway where I walked has turned to street;
the things I hunted then were never found:
buried beneath the surface, never drowned:
submerged in time, but never to defeat.

I must evolve, but still I am the same.
How age assails the soul, but never quells
that spring, the source from which all passion wells,
when twists of fate present to me the game.
In silence flies the hawk, so wild and free.
The rumble of the streets subdues my plea.