A Day Leaning On A Cane Poem by Stefan BR

You're flown away
every night, in every dark,
out the four shadows,
out the window…
In the horizon,
far ahead -
you feel so frail
So thundered and burdened
on a stool by the wall,
so obscurely bruised,
for your hopeful footprints
have rush-crossed
the bridge-broken way.

It is like love,
flying with feathers
so light
beyond the arrogance of bones
the management of muscles
the tenderness of skin…
it is like a yellow balloon
lost in the wind,
to be told,
when old,
to your children
dreaming by the sea.

And the calendar shouts
oh
again and again
of a fire in an aged game,
of that second that stayed,
of those shields promising to fail,
a day leaning on a cane…
For your hopeful footprints,
Every night, in every dark,
Have rush-crossed
the bridge-broken way -
now
haven't they?