The old chasm finds us,
The old circle of rising
And greeting
Is lost to the winds.
Memories virtue remains
But its edges grow dim.
So marvelous our time,
So soft our touch
Upon each others cheek.
Quieted voices,
Stilled exchanges,
Kept to the scrapbook.
What once was crystal
Now grows ever vague.
We reach to remember
The parting glass,
And find
well-cherished
Antiquities,
Parcelled
among the ruins.
Time might heal
But it also fades.
It remembers
But it also
Takes away.
It is a moving train.
The whistle
Echoes faintly still
only in the distant hills.
Oh, Great Gatherer
Of days and remembered
moments, keep those sacred,
who have accompanied
Our path.
Bring them to mind again,
as when we were young.
Find us and remind us.
Eternity waits for the believer.
Claim us as repentant keepers
Of love’s simple moments,
Poor charlatans who forget;
Who cannot help but be out-of-step
Within the dance that embraces us.
Partners ever,
reluctant departures,
Ever ready to take our hand.
John A. Bragstad is the author of two books: Compass Season and Nature's Poetry of Life. Both are available at Amazon or in local Grand Marais bookstores. An ideal gift idea.
" Unending" is taken from an upcoming work still in progress: Sojourner of the Spirit.
Special thanks to Pixabay for the title image.