Glowing days that were once red-cheeked and ripe with promise,
Are narrowing like tall candles in a church window,
Tapering from the golden stand and the sturdy base,
To the glorious flame and the ever fading light.
The final birth of dreams that was once distant and cold,
Is now close, closer, ever closer.
The imminent darkened clouds of doubt, that haunt the wise,
Are now gathering close to form a ghostly shadow,
That will create a vast tempest, in a quiet place,
And a mighty torrent that will quench the firelight.
Unyielding waves of fear that are rising in the old,
Are now near, nearer, ever nearer.
To have once coveted the blue from the autumn sky,
Embraced the fallen leaves of a giant maple tree,
To have jumped into water without wondering why,
Leaped joyfully in the warm sand near the emerald sea.
Having playfully chased off the petulant sea gulls,
Broken twigs to build a fire against night’s attack,
Held tight in your strong hands the soft feathers of eagles,
And kissed a beautiful girl on the nape of the neck.
To have laughed at the tetchy clock ticking in the hall,
And smoked each distressing regret like a cigarette,
Knowing it would certainly give cancer of the soul,
The narrowing compels the pining heart to forget.
It becomes easier to be harsh and bland,
To exalt the decay of the marigolds,
We can raise the dead roses in a garland,
Salute the ailing sunset as it unfolds,
By denying days that were filled with delight,
Claiming there is no glory in the moonlight.
When forced to consent to the lessoning of a day,
And to accept the waning of a moonlit heaven,
To wonder if the path taken was the only way,
Is to live in mortal fear inside a peaceful den.
To be ordered to find gratitude in the calming,
And to find a moments peace in the resignation,
Is not the purpose of the dancing and singing,
This game is but a trial of the imagination,
God has left the beautiful forest unattended,
There is no lesson, design or celestial rule,
To search for meaning is to invite eternal dread,
It takes a saddened, embittered mind to be that cruel.
Could the wonderful gentleness, be shown,
Of a gardenia if it were stone?
Could the refreshing coolness of water,
Held close to your parched lips, be forever?
Could love's joyous light, shine and never fade.
Or the closing at sunset be delayed.
An elegance can be found in the narrowing,
As memories line together like a pearl necklace,
And clouded moments vanish and amount to nothing,
And all are gently buried with red velvet and lace.
Love the narrowing, set in a purposeless blue sky,
Not because winter nights have become less frightening,
Or the smoldering summer days have now lost their sting,
But as there is no truth in the trumpet or the drum,
It is just a walk among the flowers of freedom.
And a laughing stroll through the narrowing of wisdom.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: June 16th, 2025 00:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments4
Wonderful reflections in this poem of looking back over life. There is vivid imagery and splendid metaphor in this piece that take the reader back over their own life and cast a wistful sense of nostalgia. Very nicely done David
Thank you mi amigo for that wonderful critique.Your comments are most welcome.
A very vivid and intricate way of looking back over one's life, reminiscing of the good and the bad, some wonderful lines, enjoyed the read
Thank you so much
You are very welcome
Excellent write David
Excellent comment Tony36
You're welcome
I am truly feeling this shift—the weight of time, the bittersweet pull of memory— that our journey, our moments, have mattered. And even as things narrow, as choices become fewer, as light softens, there's still depth, still warmth, still a place for laughter and love. We are moving forward, carrying all that shaped us. And there is still light left. Beaute🕊️🙏🏻
I like to believe that moments matter. Thank you so much for your insight,Most welcome
Any time compadre🕊🙏🏻
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