We aging poets
Scribble hard in the passive
Recalling the active;
I envoke your separate, central parts,
Merging in the hard ripples of you
In August's evening lake;
Re-absorbing the yellow blur
That dries the pressed grass.
These passive lines from past lives;
This aging poet loses clarity
Re-capturing the passions
Of the young poet's life.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC
We aging poets
Scribble hard in the passive
Recalling the active;
I envoke your separate, central parts,
Merging in the hard ripples of you
In August's evening lake;
Re-absorbing the yellow blur
That dries the pressed grass.
These passive lines from past lives;
This aging poet loses clarity
Re-capturing the passions
Of the young poet's life.
