The Best Of Times Poem by Edward Iacona

THE BEST OF TIMES
Edward Iacona


That youth is wasted on the young,
May be a cliché bon mot.
Maybe we can also act like teens
Though chronologically, we're not.

Yet we can stroll beneath the stars
With her hand holding mine
And talk and feel each other's thoughts
That is always a telling sign.

We can go on a little picnic
With just some sandwiches are fine.
And have a little drink as well
From a thermos of chilled wine.

We can hold each other closely too
With arms that tightly entwine
Like an old wooden fence post
Engulfed by a clinging vine.

We share our love of meaningful music
There are many from when we met.
There's no MP3 for her and me
Just a way to play a cassette.

We may recall when the tempo of love
Was "accesso" with nary a time for rest.
But time has allowed a transient bridge
And that "andante" for us is the best.

We can reminisce of youthful love
And all the emotions it empowers.
Then look into each other's soul
And smile to rejoice in ours….


FOR ALLA