Place of Refuge

Place of Refuge

10 January 2011

Passing Carousel Riders: To Laura

I look at you,
                 my friend,
in your lean blonde chassis,
circa late 1950s, a smile
like sunlight, an air
of childish naievete still,
and I see myself.

It's always good to see you.

Your youngest is graduating 
and off to college;
I celebrate with you.
I, this time around, opted
for no children, no
such celebrations.

It saddens me sometimes.

Those tiny joys are beauteous,
but in my centuries
on this earth I've seen them come
and go, replaced by disappointments
when the borne hope dissipates.
I've seen the body sag;
all too often, the smile diminish.

You and I, passing
one more time around
on this merry-go-round called life,
on similar horses,
but slightly different trappings.
I like the way yours sparkles

Perhaps on this turn,
you'll catch the ring.

1 comment:

Debra She Who Seeks said...

Beautiful poem. I hope she catches the ring too!