Ken's Poetry

As Mosses Do

May I not bring you flowers
as I used to do
knowing you will smile,
may we not dance again
before the winter fire
holding each other
glowing-close again.
May we not walk
hand in hand once more
despite the children’s grins,
or love in summer grass
beneath the sun.

Habit grows as mosses do
cushioning, cushioning.

May I not gasp
as children do
at something new.
May I not cry aloud
because I only
want to do.
May I not spend an aimless day
near to home yet far away
and no one ask
how I have passed the day.
May I not walk on crystal night
my head held back to drink the stars
alone, yet with the world again
and mystery and deep delight
not caring you await me.

Habit grows as mosses do
cushioning, smothering.

The cage we made
is hard and fierce
we dare not tread
beyond the bars
built year to year
with easy compromise,
you caging me
I caging you
together turned the key.
The sky is dimmer than it was
horizons not so far
the laughter sparse
the love worn thin
by banging on the bars.
The circles that we tread within
are burned into the floor
you in your corner
I in mine
tread for evermore.

Habit grows as mosses do
smothering, killing.

This bar I struck for you
with anger and with fear;
and this, was forged with jealousy
with passion and with pride.
You made me this, possessively
and polished it with care,
and that, was made in bed on nights
of anger and despair.
This, you gave with repetition
stubbornness gave you that,
unnoticed through the passing years
we prisoned ourselves here.

Habit grows as mosses do
killing, killing.

Yet we could break this prison down
remove the bars
each one his own
leave one or two perhaps
but less
leave gaps to grasp
for happiness.
May we not reach into the day
together wonder at the light
weep in freedom side by side
together yet also apart.
May we not learn another path
now age has worn old fears away
love again in freedom’s light
relive the wonder
and delight.

Habit dies like mosses die
at summer’s height.