Friday, August 19, 2016

A poem this time, to my wife . . .

Poem to My Wife on Our 28th Anniversary

by James Prothero


The years, so golden, fragile, and bright
Like faded photos
And memory’s uneven grasp,
Have changed you and I .
We are not now the young lovers
Holding hands at the front of the church;
You’re in white—me in a tie,
Amazed at the bright trail ahead of us.

We have grown, wiser, happier,
Sadder, more brittle,
Yet more in love with our life together,
That goes by now like a replay of a parade.
We’ve watched our child
From first step to college.
We’ve walked trails
Both desert and woodland,
Dry, barren and lush green.

And now the trail turns toward home.
Many loops still lie ahead,
But we know that the return to the trailhead
Is not far.

Still, though changed from what we were,
Again take my hand,
Before the altar of a trail through wind-whispering woods,
And hike with me
To that bright meadow at the trail’s end.

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