I remember one summer morning
Not long ago
When I awoke with a start
And rushed to my bedroom window
And stood and looked out at the countryside
As if I were standing
At the very shores of my life.
And time itself had transfixed
Every image of my work and days,
Toil and torment, love and laughter…
More perfect than any memory,
And then floated them in sequence
On a pale, misty blue sea.
And there, as far as the eye could tell
The images stretched out to indistinct horizons
Where pale blue sea met azure sky.
And so that morning they lay equally and sequentially arrayed;
From the rich gay colors of my youth,
To the pastels of middle age,
Even the golden still life,
Under the purple twilight;
Up to where times brush had begun…
To paint them grey.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.