Yes, I have grown old

yes, I have grown old
always without knowledge
I watch a child friend of mine turn woman today
and am reminded
that my own stillness is but a relation
to the speed of the world external
from which I had quietly slipped myself
like an envelope
like new skin,

and the ghost of my younger confidence
is a whisper in the wind--
what I hear against the last drops of rain tonight
rapping softly on the window
trying to get back in.

The moon gapes like a wound tonight, a gash
in the sky
it is the fog drawing its silver screen around shadows of trees
it is all effects, but I thought
again
of you. And how it was all effect; but the moon, it still gaps
like a wound.

Your Big Day

Today, as I laid in bed, watching the dusky blue, the last of the day
seep through the black of the curtains, illuminating the world with its dim mysterious rays, I wondered
Has it been ten years? Since we made up guessing games
who will be the first? we asked.
and ten years hence, some of us had moved, some passed on, some no longer close friends in the truest sense
has time been kind to us all?
Have we found ourselves, are we proud of our callings?
I told you I cried when I saw your email. I was not exaggerating.
Yes, I did cry.
So, you will be the first, to walk the aisle.
Life is full of mysteries, and I guess its equation will always be one more of questions than of answers
But, the question we threw into the future ten years ago, today, has revealed its answer
Is that what life is? This sowing of a seed, a question into the future?
Will what we have buried with our hearts one day, twenty years down the road bear fruit?
I hope so, my dear friend, I hope so.
And as I watch the dusk blue deepen, and the world transit from a dull day into a brilliant night,
I think, so this is time's gentle and subtle movement across our lives
I hope whatever the future hold for you will be as brilliant
and I will memorize this shade of blue
no, it is not a color of sadness, or the forlorn,
it is the color of questions answered and promises fulfilled, it is a mild hope of foolish girls that had been blessed
I will memorize this shade of blue
and I will bury this trembling wish I have for you in this fragile hour of the day
watch it wash into the dark of a new night
bury it deep
before I turn on the lights.

someone else's sad lines

Tonight I can write the saddest lines
the words
are not mine
how they caress this still night
equally cold, and, hollow
of the stars, the white moon
and treetops
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
these words are not mine
it is my disease
to crave that which does not belong to me
so that even my sadness
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
even my sadness
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
I borrow
someone else's
Tonight I can write the saddest lines
it is better that you are someone else's .
Sadness,
when it's mine like all these words I have
ring false
I am not someone
who can write sad lines
I can only taste tears
The same night whitening the same trees.
Ah. yes. I taste tears.