Classic Poem

A thought of her always
stayed in my head, at the back of it,
lardered there, like a berry
in a squirrel's cheek. Those days
that was my amulet
against every adversary —

loneliness, weltschermerz, dull
age and its self-mockery
in presence of anything
buoyant and beautiful.
I would think of her, you see,
young, lovely and welcoming ...

Now I am not so sure —
with her gone — that " Man's love
is of man's life a thing
apart." Unless hid failure
and the slow dissolution of
all purpose be worth husbanding.











By permission of the author.