Epitaph Iii... Poem by John Tansey

Epitaph III


I

When we were, but kids
and our feet swung,
carelessly,

below the seat,
and just above the ground.

It is right at that spot,
where I seek to be:

Suspended between
the moment, gone
and the one, yet to come!

Light, airy and carefree!

Able to rise above
weightless, like a cloud!

II

Not this mile deep
wreckage, beneath the sea.

Where the pressure per square inch,
crushes me!

Waiting to be found, by the scent
from a rent by the week room.

This abyss, this black hole,
where neither sound, light nor even

the claustrophobic soul can escape!


John Tansey Sometime,07