The Tireless Days

Those were the tireless days,
the freewheeling, poker dealing days,
spinning the wheel, her lady luck ways
tucking happiness up beneath a brim,
jaunty, sailing upstream,
screaming on the inclines.

Walking on the sands, strands of hair
floating as she swam in the seas,
her strokes sure, her breathing unlaboured,
her pasta making days, laying ribbons
out to dry on makeshift clothes dryers,
her basil and pine nut times,
and snips of wild thyme growing wild.

Her happy contagious ways of
staying ghosts and balancing on handlebars,
tops down and driving cars along the coast
a ghost of a scarf trailing behind,
her music toe tapping times, lines
sketched in the dust describing scores
while sitting on the hallowed steps
blowing smoke rings, and winding watches,
always late, sometimes early, never quite arriving.

Those were the exhilaration years,
the pent up fears, free flowing tears,
on pretty cheeks, unblemished years,
sliding down the bannister rail,
the songs of whales and brahmin tales
mediation, meditating, ruminating on woes,
the sky filled highs, and doldrum depths

How did it happen, where did it go?
Watching erstwhile wings flutter,
up there in the worlds, watching clouds go by,
the ebb and flow, slower now,
each step sliding on the polished floors,
who wrote the score, who sang the song?
waiting for the inevitable, wondering how long.







Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 530 times
Written on 2013-07-21 at 15:07

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There is an ache that goes with longing for what was, those days that slipped by and seem so remarkable now. This brings out the ache in me, it obviously is doing it is spades for you. It's good remember those days, good that we had them, lucky we had them, still have them, if only sometimes.
2013-07-22


countryfog
There are so many evocative images that I wouldn't know where to begin. There is nostalgia certainly, and not so much a sense of loss of innocence but how, in such remembering, we realize how once joy was such simple things and as we get older how much more difficult and complicated it becomes. Is joie de vivre always and only the providence of the young? . . . and perhaps I don't really want to know the answer.
2013-07-21