66
On every “I know” there’s a certain “you don’t”
But like lovers, they can't always meet
How they looked for each other in Amarcord
On the opposite sides of a street
Autumn has come, and the withered leaves fly
Falling away from the trees
I know it would be so, but can’t tell you why
Still I’m enchanted by this
When I was young, many autumns ago
To the know-it-all camp I belonged
Which helped me to realise things I do know
Are quite often the same that I don’t
Most complex of metaphors turn out plain
Trivialities flicker with depth
And this sunny day, can it speak of the rain?
As mere life speaks about death
The ghost of Villon could be grinning at me
Through the ages I noticed that smile
But what if I’m him for a while, cause I see
All my knowledge have proven futile
Now I’m 66 – too late to fix
But still a bit early to know
How would the choir sound in the mix
With the trumpet, in time when I go.
Copyright © Gregory Colodub | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment