Something to be Learned


8

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Estella-472873000

Wonder where the hard years went

Up and down and lost like blood and sweat

The monumental dramas have all but disappeared

For maybe love and peace

Can win the day, yet again

I passed a bridge, calling maturity

I broke into a dive, of self-acceptance

It wasn’t a matter of effort

I think it’s a function of

Synaptic pruning, lost memories

All the grown-up people say

The wine from these grapes

Tastes sweeter now, like wonder

Taken at a distance, with some measure

Of quiet detachment, where failure

Dulled by grief disappears

And joy is the only thing that can

Possibly take its place

No longer with boots of the hunter on

The chalk of a thousand sunsets

Has left its mark in nodding understatement

Of all the dreams left like alder leaves

Posterity knows Autumns well enough

That by disks of splendour, all that something

Set in a lusty tune, rust of dormant boughs.