Reflections at Close of Day, for Todd
©2018 Susan Noyes Anderson

Image by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
He left in his own
time, his chosen way.
I find in me
no spirit
to begrudge it.
He left in his own
time, his chosen way.
I find in me
no spirit
to begrudge it.
city beat
city heat
miles of pavement
pulsing feet
O be not lulled by placid sea
nor lapping waves
of harmony
How have we been
reduced to this?
A pound of pain,
an ounce of bliss.
Life’s bloom is off
the wilting rose.
Our goose is cooked,
and so it goes.
It started with Moonlight
and Valentino and candles,
with life rushing by
us, eroding our
edges too fast.
You say your face is not quite right.
Your haircut is all wrong.
Your chin goes in. Your jaw goes out.
Your nose is far too long.
If I can get bigger and taller and tougher
and leaner and meaner and stronger and rougher,
then I can play basketball better and better,
and they’ll call me shooter and hoopster and netter!
Sometimes
for no good reason
after a late meeting
or before the jogathon