TWELVE
By the time you are twelve your affections are fixed.
Then come the decades that roll your heart like a cheese
In the sea. Yes, it is surreal.
Then you are twelve again, and old.
And you find the waxed red ball of your heart on the shore.
And you are not surprised by anything now except
That you should love at the end what you loved
At the beginning.
Stan Rice, Author and Poet
2 comments:
Wow! What a good visit you had there. Seems like there are so many stories. Safe travels as you head east.
We remember some of those magnificent old tombs, mausoleums, and statuary from our visit to Metairie a few years back. Ir seems long ago, but you brought it right back to us. Thank you!
Post a Comment