Poem

If I posted this before, hold up two fingers, and then, I guess, you'd better tell me.

Not Forever

Carol Schiess

The sky was dark and clear

this morning as I walked,

stars bright and white,

like on a winter night

when the moon and stars

seem fixed

in a blue-black sea of air,

never to move or fade,

always to blink out their lights,

always to be up there as surety and comfort

for sailing ships and airplanes,

for walkers in the early morning dark,

but, of course, we know they won’t.

They’ll dim, fade,

disappear, like first love,

like my mother

when she died.