When done has rested upon it laurels,
When gone can’t be found, it’s Time retrieving
The arc of its circle, trapped by florals
And pity’s sake, in time’s perceiving,

When gone seems long bereaving. When done
Has dusted paths of love, when song, refraining
From reaching into pasts, futured, seems gone,
When done announces silent restraining.

Dones above forget their own lessons learned,
And fallow gones with old lessons learned.

When done is done and gone is gone, when some
Instincts remain, it feels gone and done flies
To heights unnamed. When done has gone, no one
Can feel its pain, the done and gone, realized.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 2/11/07