The San Juan range is peaceful
late July sun has swept them clean
of winter's frosted tops
on the banks of the Animas
river of lost souls, walked we two
a vain,concessionary stroll that would not mend
the summation of years of love's absence
death came to our togetherness
in the April defrost of a long winter
of discontentment and false illusions of hope
summers at the shore filled with youthful ambition
strained relations like cat gut ready for stretching
romance could not flow from the violin of love
without desire and the music of passion
the melody was abysmal, out of tune, out of time
as day dies with submission to the stars
magic no longer rides with us on the moon's gift
shooting stars cease falling
'til we part
the era of love and wonder for our future
is a dead art lying about our feet
we dismissed too esily
the bonding glue of tenderness
in Durango this day we memorialized our past love
a love long deceased
it will not rest in peace
there on the banks of the Animas
resurrection not desirable
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Such a sad love story. I could feel the stinging pain throughout the poem. Well written.
Mary
Ron
Be always safe,
Karen
Regis
Sandie Angel :o)
You achieve an exceptional fluency here, not just in the lines and their movement and rhythm but in the flow of feelings, and the sense of loss and what's past is strong and palpable.
John
in the April defrost of a long winter
of discontentment and false illusions of hope
Jon, Eliot could not have writ it better.
Thank you for this marvelous poetic experience. -gene.
haunts forever our memories! Exquisite poem, Jon!
Love and Blessings,
Eileen