Unanimously Monday

Unanimously Monday

Unanimously Monday
          we go our own ways
to better or worse
          fare thee well good stars
our pockets filled
          with the past
that we carry
          from place to place

here the rains fell
          and the river rose
and flowed swiftly
trapped by the force
          of gravity out
into the all enveloping

Sunday dialogues turn
          to Monday monologues
the old hours gone
          the way of peaches
and cream
          and trifles all

But the memories remain
          of the steps taken
of hand-held love
          and kisses blown
on the wind
          our dust held tightly
in the grip of time
          past caring

One by one
          the petals tumbled
from the yellow roses
          Monday mourns them

John Lyons



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