From this bench I have seen the ghosts of summer play
so wild, those children always, wild screams and wide
eyed wonder, laughter’s thunder under the dazzled sun
as waves washed over their silken skin, splashing
rainbows as they tossed about, unbound in summer
their strong embrace of the long days, arms stretched
limitless around the dream of inexhaustible youth
From this bench now, sundown on the horizon
the immeasurable become measured, I hear music
a symphony drop from climax, down, a conductor
moments from the final rest, the baton set down
the vast become minute in a swift stepped march
toward the edge of time, a parade of ghosts to be
set adrift, eternal tide, the sound of a clock gone unwound
Coming up on my blog I am going to plan a trip to a Pacific island.
LikeLike
Sounds good. Happy Friday.
LikeLiked by 1 person