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About This Poem
This Life
I will whisper excuses in my own ear,
Behind my back to the shadows of regret...
And recollections in their kindest form
Cannot soothe the tears
Of a heart torn asunder.
I never wished you gone,
Nor unencumbered by my embrace;
In an afternoon of Summer softness
And Summer scents
Held together by a future unimpaired --
How was I to know...
In the certainty of youth and beauty,
All those whispers told a tale of sacriifice
Surrounding a gentle wanton uninstructed
In the vagueries of lies.
I only wanted to be free...
I only wanted to understand
Meaning in the word glorious.
It was never meant to be,
Even though vivid memories are treasured
Of other lives preordained...
I have no knowlege of importance...
So remember, in the centuries long past,
And those yet to come...
The reasons for loneliness;
The reasons for life.
I must, in any case,
Simply whisper excuses for this one
However long it seems to last...
Simply whisper ...
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