We do not wish the wild horses tame
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Winds Blow, and We know
That Change is Coming Soon.
Life-Tides Moving By
The Glistening Monthly Moon.
Make Room We Say, For Crossroads;
By the Way.
As Dew Becomes; the Dues
That We Must Pay.
Our Crusty Mirror Sees Only Shapes;
Foggy and Unclear.
When Eyes of Youth So Crystal
In Their Shining Lack Of Fear.
We Move So Slow,
And Slow the Change Becomes.
We Hardly Notice How Our Lives
Doth Rearrange Our Sums.
In Increments
Of Infinitesimal Stature
Before We Know, A Winter's Snow;
And Our Foundation's Fracture.
We Do not Wish for Youth's
Renewable Moments Passing;
We do not Wish the Wild Horses Tame,
Our Only Wish:
To Touch Love Every Day,
And Every Day
Be Other Than The Same.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2025
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