Sunday, June 5, 2011

Sestina - 1st draft - 1 - 5 stanzas

Childhood fades to that faraway place
where blue skies frame a joyful sun
that fed the spirit and nurtured growth
of small bodies eager for the living
when laughter tinkled like crystals in the breeze
in an anthem of spontaneous expression.

We try to regain that free expression
that binds us firmly to that place
years pass as candles snuffed by the breeze
clouds moving across the face of the sun;
birthdays part of the mystery of living
notched on door frames marking our growth.

But would there be excitement at that growth
or frowns overshadow joyous expression
if we saw in advance truth about the living
and understood more about time and place
would we dance so freely in the sun
if we knew how fleeting was the breeze.

For each life stage passes with the breeze
that feathers every seasons' growth
from winter darkness to summer sun
a metaphor for all expression
as we move to each new place
to mark the phases of the living.

And as we celebrate the living
carried forth on endless breeze
appreciate each special place
that mark the milestones of our growth
the changing vista of expression 
beneath the guard of a watchful sun.

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For some reason I'm yet to fathom I'm unable to reply to comments left by others so thank you for dropping by and taking the time to read and comment. Merlene