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To a Boilerhouse Retrospective
there aint nothing
like a free hand, friend
a loose wrist or a vision
draped in blessedness
could not be compared
against the frames and staples
in a boilerhouse which
will stand still, if for a day.
there will be a ribbon-
separation where we will
congregate - us and them,
the ones who looked towards
the trees, but missed out
on the blossoms - and
it will be, as it has always
been, less one.
there may be sadness, yes
of the type kids feel
when their kite takes flight,
but mostly love,
thankfulness, goodwill
and your happiness
which we always knew
at home, at last.
