A LONG TIME WALKING

Alone, I may have long ago withdrawn into the semi-darkness of a bar:

together, we crown from window eagerly like children round a Christmas tree or at a picnic
unconcerned with the sun, the people, the taxicab horns, exclusive�"

-insulated, prodigal with words---

profound words or illogical, words of impossible, words of small consequence or none.
Yes, you love white brick houses with blue shutters and blue brick houses with whitewashed shutters, stables made over, oak beams, tall ceiling and stone fireplaces.
You have heard me indulgently on asters and water lilies,

and atomic war, and Hindu poets.
And I know exactly the chaise-lounge and scarlet screens

Wedgwood and Persian sandals you would have when we are rich.
We have been hours walking. 

We have seen everything and more. 

It is good growing tired together...the sinews and the senses concurring

 like a preview of gathering years.

Reviews

[David Scott]

I like to think you are not alone and "growing tired" with a dear friend or love...
I like the contrast of finding energy to be on the go and still admitting the reality of being a bit tired.
Their is a joyful voice of mature love here.
Thank you for sharing such a remarkable talent here Dave.

[DrD]

You are always so kind. Coming home has resurrected some creative juices demanding to be used. Nothing more than that. Thank you much, David.

[David Scott]

I was hoping for you, but understanding your heart I felt this was a creative projection of "what if's" framing your fond memories.
This poem should be in a published book however... Very fine work!