The sadness of continuing
to reach out
to connect
to be with,
to love
to know…
and face the withdrawal
the pulling back,
the retreat
the coolness,
that put space between us;
I grow old, though I treasure
those memories,
my own goodness
and lack of anger,
my deep sadness;
for now I see so many
who are hurting
as they run,
run, run
to and from love.
I remember the beach,
those years with Earl Klugh guitars
wafting through the Tideline,
the sound of pounding waves
that caressed the shore;
the smell of funnel cake,
the setting sun,
a pink and golden sky...
and the humid, salty air
that tangled my tousled hair;
I felt alive, yet alone,
though I was a part of life,
this precious life,
and the natural world
that never disappoints.
The rest is opera.
