A Change Of Rhythm Is As Good As Or Rather Better Than A Rest. Poem by Richard Blanch

The sun was bright, the leaves aglow
When I was young, long, long ago

When life did not pass in a bang and a flash
When time seemed a game- there was nothing too rash
To try. When fire burned without turning to ash-

Then I was at leisure. Ready and fresh
As the day. And I went

Looking for something: for some moist treasure
Or other, something proud, something free
Something that lived in a watery cave, rising
To my will, willing, guileful but unsurprising,
Sweet and modish.. Something that would be
Worth the seeking – a precise, pretty pleasure.

Pride I found. In plenty.
A proud mind, proud heart, above all, proud flesh,

Fine and fierce: -a wonder well beyond my wish
And to think. I went there looking for a dish
Of quite another kind. I did not hook my fish.

But all was well.- too well I know.
Now that the winds of old age blow.