lundi, janvier 16, 2012
Staring out the window
A suburban train
Every turn of the wheel one more circle
Wishing away the years spent bootless, I long.
Your arms, a familiar spectre
Not knowing you
Still I watch
Couples weave through
Routines, gavottes, ordinary time
How sanctified they
Ah, but I know
Because beyond those shelters
Lie the exotic climes
In which so many hopeful sailors do
Shipwrecked in siren lands
Wanting wine for a thirst that
Might have once been quenched with water.
And I, listening so often
Have fancied myself more than a chronicler,
A fellow adventuress, lover, friend.
My place is here among those who pattern their days.
Like a child lost in maze of misty rooms
I cry out for that which I see,
Regret the time I spent adrift in exotic shoals nearby
When what I really want is love in four/four time.
More extraordinary than it looks to those limbo lovers,
Whirling again and again around void of unfulfilled longing.
Away now the candles, incense, promise of stories untold
Not your daughter, coach, your mistress I
I wait impatiently for the stop that speaks of home
Of light, and of comfort for a child inconstant.
Forgive myself for chasing sparks when hearthlight rises tranquil.
A steady flame does not entice
But neither does it singe.