Thursday, October 22, 2009

Parade of Wonders

Oh the clock ticks moments
in precise progression...
marking a moment that leads
to an end... somewhere.

The parade floats by
in a waving procession,
a wafting of hand
signals a vacant stare.

From the memory of lilacs
and hawthorne in bloom,
nothing compares with the
wonder of an innocent youth.

We live in our cork lined rooms
watching the parade of parody
march by with flags, and bugles,
and banners of bravado.

It's no wonder that the wizened cry
as the drumbeat of the past
dings a harp string and clutches
the last sobs of a distant bagpipe.

Silence is an answer too.


  1. This is right on. Perfectly paced.

    Do you know "Sad Steps" by Philip Larkin? This poem makes me think of him. He is one of the greats in my opinion.

  2. Thanks Megan, I will certainly make his acquaintance!