Those Dismal Days

When those dismal days draw near full of rest,
And rocking on the porch, open this book,
And turn pages loose when reflections held
Softness in the eye, with mysteries wide;
So many long for your golden moments,
And prized your clean lines etched in space and time,
But ‘Shakes' still hold that noble heart in you,
And wiped your tears from the runnel of years;
And stooping beside the squeaky rocker,
Whisper, ever so slyly, how urge flew
To rise with breeze stiffening leaves like rods
And shades of fresh fields yawn, trolling each blow.
Saturday, August 24, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: old age

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3/9/2021 4:43:47 AM #