1980-02-18

She’s been the one all these years
how fragile hang the leaves of our futures
time and events swirl… national, personal… age advances
nothing remains the same.

“Rose”, I could say, my hand on her’s
with the endless calendar pages
and conjunctions whispering around us
and those small wrinkles advancing on our investments.
And it would be but a gesture against life’s capriciousness
and its tendency to change just when it feels good.

So I’ve lived enough to see this life’s form… what I’ve done
who I am… what’s caught me, what I’ve escaped
I’ve formed enough to recognize she’ll always be the one
just as Danny will always be my son.

02-18-80

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

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