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A FEW SEASONS OUT OF GRACE
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JOURNAL #19 the essence of one's love
caresses first
the untouched part
of the most perfect bloom
uniquely
like a sad forest's busy bustle
strangling me immune
in its hushed murmers
I use to feel that very way about
the younger you
chance orchestrates such innocent
manner
for to simply gaze upon the starving
grandeur of the moon
the wind applauds such devastating
show
by bowing her breeze
to make the trees rustle
while the splendid sun rise witnesses
no such boon
as unbeknownst to her
her scorching rays are far too
unapologetically harsh to appreciate
the lone loveliness of nights approach
so instead
every time she tries to promise fully
see
she in turn smothers the night
and his avid lover
the moon
unknowingly with her silent yet
hopeful apparent glee
causing every single attempted time
the same repeated catastrophe
showing them both away
forcing night to only again much later
in turn chase away her day through just
like us
all too sweetly said
still
its oh so very sad
in an almost prophetic way
so in passing
allow me to a good morning to you
dear night
along with a very good night
as well as to you too dear day...........
(Nov. 19,1998)
