Friday, May 18, 2012
The Photograph (A poem)
I had forgotten that sight: —
The glow of autumn in my eyes, a
Light warmth, a dreamy light,
Within the picture that lay.
It was a simple photograph, I saw,
The fair face of a young lad:
Then I felt a sense of awe:
Sadness blending with my joy!
Here I was, at twenty-three
The graceful image, a young man
With soft and wavy auburn hair
Fresh young muscles, chin and brow!
Clear and simple were things,
That my inward spirit grew;
The white veil of simplicity:
It was as if another time.
Now, an old man at sixty-four
With groping eyes, cloudy mind—
That narrow room of youth foreclosed:
Luminous- beauty now vanished!
As if enfolding in one night:
Wild and dark and bright visions,
Fermenting within that old photograph:
We reap as we have sown!
Thus, the soul now waits and waits
For the day he’ll vanish
Yet the picture still remains:
Back in the day, he was twenty-three.