SPEAK OF TIMES OF JOY

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Sitting, carefully waiting
Honed to accept place,
Beyond all needs to crave,
Within our quietude home,
A joyful thought spins
Dancing in delirious mirth.
Where will it end? It will end.
How will it land with you?

Wandering in wondrous space
Amongst the everyday things
That muster us in life
Lies the togetherness sought;
Drifting together and apart
Constantly being at one
In a making of our love,
Grown of granite, soft as fur.

Music plays of Alice
A familiar voice of longing
That has anchored time.
Our time of togetherness
Can never be replaced.
Never will it come again.
Sitting, carefully waiting
Honed we accept our love.

 

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David Scanlon – England – (1963 - )

Scanlon. D (2016) Poetry for business: fired by passion. The Foolish Poet Press, Wilmslow, England. SPEAK OF TIMES OF JOY. Page Number 9.

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