Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Memories are Made of This

Some lovers are lucky enough to grow old together while the rest of us must be content with focusing on happy memories.  

For the inner eye, though, the line of vision is always the same, on love as it was at the start and always will be...

Oh, and who cares if the writer of a love poem is gay or straight? For that matter, why should anyone mind about someone else’s sexuality anyway? As for those who so love to bring God into the debate, if God created humankind, He (or She) also created our differences and is hardly likely to reject anyone for those differences since it is, after all, our differences that make, not different, just human.

There is nothing romantic about growing old, it's tough; no older person would dispute that. At the same time, where there is love in the heart, a feisty spirit is rarely anywhere near as far away as it may seem to the casual observer. invariably, there is a life within that refuses to grow old...even as it prepares to explore the Poetry of Mystery we call death.


If strands of grey in the hair turning white
and less subtle laughter lines in the face,
you smile, and my world is filled with light,
as tired limbs summon dignity and grace

If the voice sounding weaker than before,
its familiar lilt still sweet on the ear,
so the heart can but listen out for more,
happier for knowing we’re together…

Time ever parts the world’s lovers too soon,
yet nurture of nature will have its way,
and who seeks among craters of the moon
will find flowers we planted there today

In good times and bad, see love’s light endure,
nor shall even death’s tears its vision blur

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Line of Vision’ in Tracking the Torchbearer R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; revised version in e-format in preparation.]

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