not so profound, but nevertheless, beautiful

 



how an old shirt hangs
in back of a closet that
you cannot bear to
toss out

a cat sleeping undisturbed
in the rapture of sunlight

walking into a room
full of old friends where
laughter, sadness and
memories hang like
apples from a harvest
tree waiting to be
plucked

the last time you smiled
as a child with all the
radiant hope of a hundred
summer's gathering on
your face

the magic of frost painting
ice crystal runes on morning
windows in January

remembering the first
time that love hurt and
knowing now that it
could not have been
any other way

the savagery of youth
tearing it's way into
adulthood

the knowledge of
age...

...one lone candle
shining in the great
gothic cathedral of
a singular
life