soft grumbles

I have gone through doors.
Some opened wide, all I did
was enter only to find nothing.

 Some were shut tight
I had to knock several times
before I could go inside
 not knowing what lies ahead.

 Some I had to force my way in,
 to sate my senses emitted by flowers
 of red , white, velvet yellow or pink;
or a rainbow so clear that I can see

the end and claim my pot
of metal or ore; open my eyes
to snow-capped mountains,
birds singing atop a tree,

butterflies fluttering about;
dancing mermaids or flashing fairies,
find delight in life’s surprises.
Turn the knob,
open the door and hope
it does not open to limbo or hell.

Nothing has changed since I left
Not the old tree in front
of the gate they closed at five.
The tree we climbed to enter
the school,
so we could be alone,
talk, cuddle and kiss.

The white bench where we sat to watch
fiery glow of setting sun,
my signal to hold your hand,
put my arm around you,
hoping you would not resist.
Caress your long, soft hair
blown by the gentle breeze ,
gently kiss your reddened cheek.

Time stands still as I listen to the chimes
still singing to announce
it is time to pray the angelus.
A prayer we used to share
while I gazed at your young, innocent face.

And then you arrive

The hands of time spin as quickly
as the blades of a running motor.
Your heavily made up face,
accented by thick, red lips
heavy mascara and plump body
remind me of my flaws
now weighing on my shoulders.

Tree has gone dry.
Its leaves withered by the summer heat,
bench is dirty and rusted,
chimes now play a different tune.
We have gone old and the years
have not been kind

rolly