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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Thirty-five is later in the
morning.
Hours walk more slowly 'cross the sky.
In every word there is a self-assurance
Resting on the rock of past endurance,
The clarity that's long since settled why
Yet knows that change will come with little
warning.
For you there's still no need for
death insurance:
In work there's truth enough to reckon by.
Values bend like trees when it is storming:
Each holds its ground but cannot keep you
dry. |
