Roots Under Glass
My stare,
? like a statue's -?
not a blink,
? wink?
or twitch -??
Deepened in the history.
??I lift generations to my chest,
?But the frame jealously clamps itself
?Around the black and white haze of years.??
Wet warmth washes the venerable glass ?
That nurtures the dulling gloss, ?
Keeping clean from the dust of contemplations.??
Duty interjects.
?I bare a smile,
?Telling nod - ?
Tacit acknowledgment -
??Then unknowingly place the fading vision ?
Back down on the sideboard??
Until another year
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