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Setting sun
Folder:
14
Liquid gold flowing forth
setting fire to all seen before
sands of the beach become burnt orange
fire dances on wavelets of aqua blue
scent peaches upon your hair
as it stirs in flowing breeze
lightly it caresses across my face
as you stand so near to me
burning sun sinks into the waves
golden clouds the smoke of its flames
blue of sky darkens and fades
as summer day fades away
footsteps taken once young and sure
on the sands so pure and white
as we walked in morning light
together going into the day
cries of gulls as they fly away
fire dancing upon their wings
departing into the dark of night
from our vision they fade away
much too soon the day shall end
flame of sun will then depart
sight shall fade from our eyes
and into the darkness we’ll enter in
and my arms once so sure and strong
encircle you standing close to me
as you stumble with unsure steps
now our youth long fled away
waves do crash on beach of sand
carrying then our footsteps away
of our travels in this day
and our memories soon fade away
Wow! I really applaud how
Wow! I really applaud how you deploy the poem's images to a double task: not only to set the scene of the poem, but also to create and maintain its metaphoric meaning. The last four stanzas dramatize the encroachment of age, and the resigned, but still sad, relinquishment of those memories. (The gulls with the fire dance on their wings reminds me of Wallace Stevens' undulating pigeons in the last two lines of his great poem, Sunday Morning; was than an intentional delusion.
The relinquishment is handled with a delicacy and tenderness that does not bespeak resentment or bitterness, simply an acceptance of an eventual dissolution; and again (and I mean this as a compliment), like several of the stanzas of Stevens' poem. In the first line of the final stanza, the crash of the waves is weakened by the attachment of "do" to the verb; but this is the only stumble the poem makes as it moves to that last line, and the inevitable dissolution of our memories. I should like to think, in Faith, that this will not happen to us; but, in my opinion, you have expressed, poignantly and artistically, what many believe will become of us; and, perhaps, they shudder in that belief.
I have only read a few of your poems, but this is, I think, a centerpiece of your entire collection.
Starward