Dying

By Beverly Greene

NOTE: This award winning poem is protected by international copyright laws and may NOT be reproduced in any form without the author's expressed and written consent.

Grey and silver replace what was once golden brown,
where beauty and grace were now awkwardness and wrinkles are.
This truth is only in the harsh mirror of reality,
for deep in the youthful heart lies a castle of hope.
An older, wiser resident of far too many experiences
finds comfort in the foolishness of those days.
Embroidered on the soul of the young dreamer,
hidden carefully away in ancient ruins of society,
is the ornamentation of the memory of that time, that place.
The sparkle in a forgotten lover's eye, the smile of a friend,
the evil laugh of a past enemy even brings serenity
to this darkened, captured rose now in a lonely vase.
The white baby's breath and protruding red bow
no longer frame its beauty, but only tell of its sickening state.
Days spent merrily on the throned bush of freedom
now seem idealistic and despite blood stains, even perfect
compared to those spent in this pretty imprisonment.
Love abounded, lust ran rampant, and smiles were common
all in a single day of the youthfulness remembered.

As the rocking chair makes the old porch creak,
the past is lived, if only in the greying mind.
Before the ragged, patched apron falls heavily to the floor
beside the jagged, dirty hat all ready resting,
again a lover's hand is felt on a firm breast,
a friend's embrace soothes the wet post marks of pain,
the wind dances through young hair, sand through young toes,
and peace comes at least to a barely beating heart.
Heaven was felt without knowledge of its existence,
now it will be savoured for eternity by the hands
that clutched for it in their last efforts of life.
Yes, now freedom against a blue sea of sky is found
where even an old, darkened, isolated rose can fly.

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� 1999 Beverly Greene owns all rights to this original poem.

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