Poem for Day 120 – 20150430
Mutual meeting, suspended in time,
here to short, interval too long,
forgetting the details a little each day
until all that remains is the need
to have something to remember again.
Meals eaten, others met,
time passes, we are separate.
A series of events, progressing,
no purpose therein, on a path,
a trail, turning back to you.
Can I wait?
No choice, I must pretend,
that life has purposes,
in these desert valleys.
and another day passes,
night follows day,
wheel turns and I journey on.
Metronome tick the time,
mark the spaces without the one.
Poetic words, impartial sentinels
remind me, guide me, until that time
I return to the mutual meeting again.
© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved