Lauris Dorothy Edmond
Lauris Dorothy Edmond Poems
I want to tell you about time, how strangely
it behaves when you haven't got much of it left:
after 60 say, or 70, when you'd think it would
...
I do not ask for youth, nor for delay
in the rising of time's irreversible river
that takes the jewelled arc of the waterfall
in which I glimpse, minute by glinting minute,
...
It's a still morning, quiet and cloudy
the kind of grey day I like best;
they'll be here soon, the little kids first,
creeping up to try and frighten me,
...
There, she is there. She moves in the cold September morning
it's hours yet till dawn but she knows neither light nor dark
nor scarcely where she is. A light, a door, stone steps. She walks
...
The Best Poem Of Lauris Dorothy Edmond
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I want to tell you about time, how strangely
it behaves when you haven't got much of it left:
after 60 say, or 70, when you'd think it would
find itself squeezed so hard that like melting
ice it would surely begin to shrink, each day
looking smaller and smaller - well, it's not so.
The rules change, a single hour can grow huge
and quiet, full of reflections like an old river,
its slow-turning eddies and whirls showing you
every face of your life in a fluid design -
your children for instance, how you see them
deepened and changed, not merely by age, but by
time itself, its wide and luminous eye; and you
realise at last that your every gift to them - love,
your very life, should they need it - will not
and cannot come back; it wasn't a gift at all
but a borrowing, a baton for them to pass on in
their turn. Look, there they are in this
shimmering distance, rushing through their kind
of time, moving faster than you yet not catching up.
You're alone. And slowly you begin to discern
the queer outline of what's to come: the bend in
the river beyond which, moving steadily, head up
(you hope), you will simply vanish from sight.
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10/22/2026 8:49:04 AM # rel_20261021T150112Z_f863e5c
Did Lauris Edmond write a poem called The Affair?
no. kind of question