What becomes of us

I cannot say. Life proves everyday

To be an exasperating

Sideshow, where the acts are

Not as advertised

And love is that odd contortion

We all gawk at in the cinders

While gnawing on a cotton candy cone

Remember in my time when

I was the Brothers Grimm?

I chased Rapunzel’s flowing locks

And kissed the ivory

Cheeks of Sleeping Beauty;

Was mistaken for the prince;

But was instead the beggar

In the end.

Do not pity me;

For loving as I did, I got more

Than I ever bargained for

But so did most of those

Who loved me in return

You, you kept your silence well

Behind a stoic’s muted pulse

But I, more in league

With circus crowds

Could not quite contain

My enthusiasm

For the noise or for the clowns

Now, in my silvering

I live quite comfortably

In my insularity

Still, every now and then

A heart will come along

And make mine yearn

For something missing;

Such stirrings, as they do

Disturb the pools of smugness

And make me wonder

Why I never walked the tightrope

Like all the derring-doers

I conjured in my dreams.

You, in your shrewd quietude

Keep your silence, but

Read me like a book,

Skipping only the part

About the heart that yearned to fly

Yet, I like you sitting close

Tending to the fire

And what becomes of us seems

Rooted in the question of

Whether I long

More for the flight or

For the flame

02/12/2003

Author's Note: My everlasting thanks to Melissa Arel...for her editorial support,and her sound comments and encouragement

Posted on 02/12/2003
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch