by Leonard M Hawkes
I found you again tonight
On the corner of Fourth and Third;
And at fourteen and fifteen
On a trail of our own making,
We were going the "half-way"
And had stopped mid-vacant-lot
Over the ditch beyond the brambles.
The day had been a holyday
Of familial frolic and festivity,
But the night was finally ours.
And after my mother's pumpkin
And your father's mince,
We sought the independent
Dark edge of the real world.
Our words were of Winston,
Winter, and the West Marsh;
Our hearts set somewhere in
The semi-wilds of Middle-Earth;
Our minds no doubt on Serpents
That had or did or could or not
Or "oh so obviously might be."
- - - -
And the snow still falls purely
As the years too certainly would,
Blanketing divergence with
Inherent and impending adversity.
But we knew the truth of Christmas,
And its bright everlasting candle
Will surely guide us home.
Author's Note: For Delose, and may our present ever conjure past into our future.
Posted on 12/26/2003
Copyright © 2023 Leonard M Hawkes
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Charles E Minshall on 12/19/04 at 05:39 PM|
Congratulations on poem of the day Leonard. Well
|Posted by Jane E Pearce on 12/19/04 at 05:48 PM|
This is beautiful. Congrats on POTD.
|Posted by Maureen Glaude on 12/23/04 at 02:15 PM|
delightful and articulate as all of yours are! I'm never disappointed with them, and this one takes us right into the anticipation, pleasure and hope, with the season as background.
|Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 12/23/04 at 08:50 PM|
I liked this a lot. It would make for a wonderful prose story. Many blanks to fill out here. Good soil. Also a beautiful flower. Thank you.