by Mick Goodson
As seasons finally disassociate
themselves from tired veins,
as an encumbered memory struggles
to grasp faded impressions.
And; as a ceiling turns into a mirror,
to become confessor and arbiter.
Let peace restore itself.
Let unfulfilled hopes hang themselves
on glazed edges of obscurity,
and focus only on what was.
Let rumblings of youth echo on
scattered hinges of vision,
let unspoken words mingle on a
placid sea of treasured names.
And, as anxiety falls from your frame
to slip silently away,
discard all regrets still left wanting.
Now is your time,
To become as one, and merge with
past days of glory;
Those days of smiles and laughter
shared with glowing hearts
and gentle touch.
Always yearned for.
There now... There now.