Days (The Lull)

Days are rolling,
Falling,
Strolling down Life’s alley…
I am slowly forgetting you, says my dear Beth
To faded reflections of moments too distant.
I am never forgetting you, say I, looking up
To the constellations
Of lives whose value
My soul has tasted.
Time is unkind,
Muses the woman whose figure
Walks past me in her late forties’ daily applied grandeur.
Time is kind,
Believes the part of me whose nightmares
Are gone a week longer than usual.
And soon perhaps a month, and then, why not, a trimester,
Until they visit only once a year,
For good measure.
Oh, I have always been a dreamer.
Days are calling
You to their cradle
And their lull is delicious in your ears
While it lasts…
Then we shall spend the span
Of adversities
In remembering the verses
This very lull contained.
The more we decipher,
The less we shall fear,
As we continue rolling,
Falling,
Strolling down Life’s alley…