What will happen, when our last
parade of Palo Verde petals
paint the blue sky yellow?
Beyond the frantic flight
of ever-fluttering pages,
who will pause to remember
what we did, what we saw,
what we knew, what we missed,
who we loved and carried forward,
who we–proud and bold–held,
before the blossoms fell?
One half riddle … one half rhyme,
April muses … overtime.
One wanders in … to watch and wait,
Two falls at home … recuperates.
Three beams with friends … by candlelight,
Four’s born one morn … a pure delight.
If only they knew … what songs they’d sing,
If only they knew … what May might bring.
***
For more of my poetry, purchase A Path I Might Have Missed on Amazon.
Mark Johnson Stories 