There comes a time when

happiness deserts my heart,

leaving behind desolation in my soul.

Words held captive, as water in a mountain,

bubble through the fissures of my mind

to run unheeded down the slope of life.

 

They gather in tiny pools, each bright as the sky.

Reflecting twinkling sun dust,

or the eyes of angles in the night.

They speak on pebble, laugh between rocks,

sing songs of purity, falling from ledges.

Cascading to form a lake of verse.

 

They flow as tears at a wedding.

Half sadness, half joy

for the promise of new beginnings.

The yearnings for what was once ours.

Now stolen by years and blunted

by the grit of life.

The blade is strong in wisdom,

honed by the whetstone of experience.

But lacks the brilliant feel of

fresh worked steel.

 

And so the tears flow, salt at the

the corner of my mouth.

Each one a thought or memory,

a jewel in the necklace of life.

Each one a word to share with you

who understands my inner being.

Who with a word or touch, can

rout the tears that overwhelm me.

 

 

David Garlick, Victoria, May, 1995