A Man Leaves Us
Some kind of graphic immortality
to grace my sight each time
an old photo appears, and he is still
to give me all he is that instant.
I may study him, and unconcerned
about excess, may send him on.
His gift is wondrous, total,
as his spirit flies to realms
I do not wish to understand--
they are his own, but just before
his flight I see him caught
in a curious spectrum, ready to change,
ready for his unknown now.
I want to take some time;
he can spare it, forth or back
and there is possibility; He is
in control, and looking even closer,
moments congregate. A newer history
may thunder down the path, a birth,
a death, a song that may not
It is late. His rest, and mine
are close at hand; he disappears
between the album covers
as his phantom self persists
in memory. I cannot close
that flashing moment, fast away
when I saw him hover there
upon the edge of time.
Copyright © Robert Ludden