Tug if you will
At the purple shades of nostalgia
I’d rather roll them gently to the top
And let the sun inside this musty room

I’m of the age now:
Closer to the end than the beginning;
Knowing that I don’t know everything;
Cringing at the certain and the righteous in
Equal measure.

If my mind is supposed to be clouded
It somehow has not received the e-mail;
If it is supposed to be more simple
I have not yet succumbed to black and white;
I am a kaleidoscope of thought and I like the
Colors of this rainbow.

Gone, but not forgotten, are an array of she’s;
They occupy their places on my mantle
And I know they won’t be leaving soon
But as for the cause of poems, I can say
They have met their timely end.

I may get wistful. I may remember.
I may lose myself in the fog of memory
And regret the way this road led to
A brambled path instead of the interstate.

But looking back is no way to tomorrow
And tomorrow is still mine to hold
And run with to the end

So pull those purple shades if the sun is
Too bright on the eyes.

I myself have so much of the light
I’ve yet to see.

09/16/2014

Posted on 09/16/2014
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch