When wisdom flows black red
And time plays deeper notes
On aging flesh, then can I see
The song more clearly written.
The words are there, in turning
Shape, of woman, aged
And in the years of change…
The truth, at last is sown.
When wisdom flows bright red
And time can whisper dreams,
Upon soft skin, and wiser heart,
The waiting days begin.
And grief, is silent, still
In homage at my side
To honour what has been
To greet what soon will be.
In bright and dark surrender
The days draw quiet, and know
That all must slow, and gently
Die; that all must be forgiven.
A certain resignation to the inevitable.
ReplyDelete