Words danced across
the tongue-silver baubles,
for we were young,
wrapped in youth's frock,
we had only begun,
profundity lay far ahead,
silken days unfurled in the sun,
and words made of lace had no dread.

Over time,voices heavier grew,
for we are ripened,and no longer new,
and deal with themes foreign back then,
now, fates buffet again, and again,
until words weightier grow,
speaking of things we cannot know-
ponderous things to take the breath-
now we use words to speak of Death.

02/28/2002

Posted on 02/28/2002
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