Better the owl
than finch, said she –
So much more
to be poetic
Than historically honest.
As a memory, then
formed shape
around a boy.
She, of the lesser art, who
In composite duality,
With doubtful men
type–Juxtaposed
swift innocence
(of all ‘haloed’)
with the cruel.
So much to see –the
hand, in hand heldbond
with commonality;
(How life will creep
its crawl inevitably.)
All in, that our decrepitude will be.
But, for symbolic absentia,
Better the owl …and precious,
to bar knowledge-common form
That forty years from now,
We too may be, blind to lead
The blind –and damp of cheek.