Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,025 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Like The Candles Over The Wishes - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I will go with my mother where it will be safe
To later on become a lawful king;
And I will think from the statuaries of my benches
Who are the new presidents
While the airplanes leave trails behind them, like
Footpaths for hikers who have learned to evaporate,
The cello unaccompanied sounds the sweetest through
The drowning blue ness,
And maybe she does love me while I am all alone and she is
Rearing horses and kissing cousins down at the rattlesnake
Quarries of dead end roads,
While my paper airplanes gather like snowdrifts in my sunnier
Than though incarceration;
And my quill bleeds its imaginations of justice, while my mother
Bathes in her wet surplice;
And the choruses rejoice from the chapels for Easter: what is
It they are singing, but the sounds of the victors in a wonderful
Baseball game,
I can almost imagine stepping onto before hand at the break of smoky
Day before high school, the woods all around blanketing the
Slumbering homes of children so young that they believed they should
Never have to go away; or that eventually they would blow out
Like the candles over the wishes I had made.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 7, 2010



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