To Better Boys In Better Lands Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Day of laughter’s surcease
And what is left to find in the shallows,
Your heart a kind of jellyfish still breathing
Painted by seahorses and uncommon jacks;
And then the sky,
And then the moon, the alleyways of fine men,
Feathered and keeping an insouciant shape with
The clouds,
The cliffs of far away raising up despondently
To the weathers,
Yours is a finer face I would like to reach and
Touch but you pull away,
Like a paper kite whose string is cut,
Who wanders where the wind will take its
Folded pleasures, I fear to think
To better boys in better lands so far away.