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Pastimes : A Poetry Corner -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: poet who wrote (266)	8/14/1999 10:43:00 PM
From: poet	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 1582

JOURNEY To me the tepid rays of the setting sun Are like the kiss of my pregnant wife. Last year we struggled along Putting up at the house of one friend after another. But you really need your own nest. Next spring after the last snow melts Would come our short season of joy and love Like new shoots on the elderberry branch. But this year We walked the railroad tracks Leaning on telephone poles to rest (As if with placards of death on our backs) Squeezed between signal poles, keeping vigil (Hungry eyes searching for shoots on those bare arms) But first, while Our sick and flea-bitten bodies Dragged on from one town to another With the setting sun once again aglow, but My wife, my wife Lying crushed by the wheels of an evening train. Let the child, like a meteor Fall to a stillborn death. Set no store on the family tree or the family line. After all Even after the ruin and famine, wars must go on. I guess I'll go be a soldier for pay.) (I guess I'll go be a soldier for pay.) As husband, as father I almost made it...almost. (In the voice of CYC, for a life that could have been)