Today,
Waking early, I reached for Elizabeth.
But, finding Robert, I read of death
And how the May
Left him bereft.
I am drowning in envy of Browning
For he so well caught
How short
Is our May.
For all things must fade away.
Death leaves friends bereft.
Yet poetry remains
To soothe our pain.
A mermaid
Most staid
Oft times played
On the seashore
Until one day
The waves carried her away
In a different kind of play.
Now she will dance in May
No more.
Standing at my window
Reluctant to go
For I know
Not how long I shall be here.
Not quite half-way through the year.
May is love and birds
And erratic words
That fall
As the passing sunlight upon my wall.
Tomorrow will come (probably for me)
And I shall see
The sun’s rays fall
Upon this wall
But I know not
What tomorrow has in store …
In forests green
I have seen
The nymphs play.
Cometh May
They will around the pole
Dance.
By chance
Some kindred soul
Seeing a special one twirl
Will take a girl
Into his arms
For who can resist the charms
Of beauty fleeting
As the budding rose
Pressed to a young maiden’s nose.
There will be time enough for weeping
When the dance is over
And we are pushing up the clover
K Morris - Poet 