Sunday, September 25, 2005

The Measured Metered Lyric of Life’s Great Poem

I am witness to the end stage of love.
What love ripens into...
There is a rhythm and a cadence
to their existence,
they are dancing still.
Bent frames and
Lost inches do not take away
the memory of steps .
Their loving and their yelling,
measured and metered into a smooth
direct route’s poetry,
dog-eared, and worn thin...
One aged heart to the other
the youth of their love,
long past beneath some thieving door.
Morphed along the way into travelers wandering about
in the rich soil of love’s wisdom...
Where senses no longer sense and
minds are no longer sharp with clarity and recall,
bodies bent, broken, and fading.....
dancing still
to the measured metered lyric of life’s great poem...


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