Friday, August 20, 2010

A Marriage

by Barry Spacks

Clear now
of our long struggle
I can hear your voice, its strength
the sweet coldness
of river water.

And I can see you
as in the photograph
with your father and sister,
tall pretty girl,
pigtailed and freckled,

led, misled,
until you doubted
your beauty, body,
that you were one among us,
a person, like any other.

And, given distance,
I think of you
becoming smaller,
but cheerful, the way
the old are

with short white hair
and an easiness
you'd never know before,
and me, incredibly,
not there.

1 comment:

Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)