Summer of the Bulldog

When they're gone, they're gone. Ten thousand yesterdays march off To darkness and memory. We stand on the small island of the present As the future flows towards us, Becoming the past. She was home from Freshman Year, But almost never stayed. We saw her in flashes, Between work, friends, romance and dramas. She has her life, and lives it full; There are no regrets. Our son marries; Between hotflashes my wife starts a new career Parents age and worry I paint and write and try to be worthy Of my gifted life. Change is constant, Everything evolves relelentlessly Time flies or crawls, but always moves And all is tied together By the invisible webs of love we weave. Come Sunday, back to school. That's life: Lightning flashes, Sewn together with love.