When we hang our skin
From a fallen tree
Near a busy lake
For all to see
How
Time
Passes
And leaves behind
More time
To pass
When we hold old lips
As a final kiss
In a market
Or while walking a pet
Hoping
The kiss will taste the same
As the tremor once held
Around
Her waist
When we light an old pipe
Early on a misty day
Sitting in a new chair
Dreaming of what has yet to
Happen
If the blue smoke
Turns your head
As it once did
On rainy days
When your skin was
Smooth
And the kiss
Stolen
When we turn off the lights
On a full-mooned night
We do not look up
But to that inner
River
Which carried us
Through
And in which now
A full-moon reflects
Upon things passed
And all that
Did not
Happen
March 9,2009
vahe kazandjian
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rocking-chair-blues/
