The Sunday Poem: Departures
(Visited 6563 times) The Sunday Poem
Oct 052008
Life is made of departures:
The passage from the dark
The moment of weaning’s sharp
Longing, frantic gestures.
Balloons slipping out of hands.
A dog’s last stiff-legged sleep.
Kisses in a closet, the deep
Fear there, the moments grand.
The move from maiden name
And the way she feels once
Delivered. A man who hunts
Regrets, and finds just blame.
Life is made of departures
And occasional desperate returns
One Response to “The Sunday Poem: Departures”
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
“…A man who hunts
Regrets, and finds just blame.”
My favorite line in this poem.
Although the couplet at the end resonates strongly as well…