Hours And Hours Of Days And Days Poem by Robert Rorabeck

As the bodies work themselves out,
Angels get their wings:
He touches you like folding the laundry, after all of
These years:
The music plays in the background happening upon itself
Like candlelight in the deeper through
Of caverns,
While the grottos are all warm and unberieved-
You stand up tall and announce to the world your plans;
And the worlds flow from your lips like
Applause from the stands:
And the tourists know they came; and the cars return to
Their starting points as trustworthy as buzzards:
They just keeping going and going around,
Though I would still so very much wish to lay atop of you
And plant my apple luck within the furrows of
The garden already attended so very well;
He who knows when school is over, and how your body
Enjoys itself flitting in its ways as it knows it does
Back and forth through hours and hours of days and days.