by Leonard M Hawkes
Yet another March,
And again we'll wander in the dark
Down Watery Lane to "take coup"
On old Bloom--
The air will be wet and tense
With impending storm;
Nervously, the wind will whip
The cottonwoods along Box Elder Creek;
The rising water will sing of snow melt
On Black Pine, in Devil's Gate--south of Mantua,
And I will be with you:
Lost again in the oldest of forbidden loves--
Now wondering still (after so, so many years)
If or what it ever may have meant
Author's Note: "Still memory to a gray haired-man . . . ."
Posted on 06/02/2013
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes
|Member Comments on this Poem
|Posted by George Hoerner on 06/02/13 at 11:30 AM
We are all 'gray haired men' Leonard. Some of us a little older and some a little younger, some with a little more gray or a little more. But we all age if we live long enough and we all carry memories of when....