Trying to Hold Onto Water

I'll remember yesterday, of course, until
I'm in an old folks' home and drooling
Oatmeal down my chin: the pure and sweet
Seattle sun, the way it sparkled on the lake,
The labyrinthine paths among the lily pads
We paddled in our kayak, lolling on the beach,
And, all the while, catch-up chatter. J, so
Beautiful as she had been in Paris, when last
Seen, her laugh, and my one wish rekindled.
Couldn't time be frozen? It's not good enough
To save what is as memory.




Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2018-08-10 at 17:10

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Coo & Co The PoetBay support member heart!
A delightful description, Larry, of both the kayaking trip and an experience of oatmeal. Each is enhanced by the other :>)

All at Coo & Co were pleasantly reminded of the Okavango Delta by your memory of lily pads, although we have only tripped there in our heads. The question posed in your penultimate line is interesting. Perhaps, one day, time will be frozen. Who knows? :>)
2018-08-17