midlife sonnet
i used to dream of quiet soft grey days
where I could sleep and never think about
a clock or shopping list or bills to pay —
life was a river twisting, twining out
and now I sit in this deep dove-blue chair
imagining that I am back in time:
watch myself whirling around everywhere
while drops of stillness cool my fiery mind
if i could see her now, my younger eyes
would never let the tide go out again
without a shudder and a grateful sigh
rain pouring through my hands as it did then
the future is still coming, beckoning
waves slow and leave their simple reckoning
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