Pressing Matters
I could not wait
but now you are here
I feel the weight of time
pushing me down into
the wine press of life,
Squishing and drowning my vanities,
but churning hopes, wishes, fondness
and tamping them down
into the one pure thing:
LOVE.
For you and your mother
are now singular
and wholly required
for my existence.
Exquisite souls, you
dance among the
grapes of vitality
pouring your vintage
of delicious delight
as I sit, mostly a silt
watching you both glide
over stones
as they were nothing
more than dust
under your heels.
Click above to hear the poem.
