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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Hard by celebrations there are
tears,
A lonely yearning for what cannot be.
Perhaps we let it enter foolishly,
Passionate to weep for vanished years.
Yet living in the moment we are free,
Having jettisoned regrets and fears,
Open to the grace of eyes and ears,
Losing self in silent ecstasy.
In holidays there is a flow of time
Deep beneath the ritual ballet,
A tide that takes the trite and the sublime,
Yielding to the descant of the day,
Sweeping through the shallows of the bay. |
