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but still

August 25, 2015

swift falling nights give way to
endless noons and lingering twilights
and Frenchness settles in like a shawl
gently dropped over
everyone’s shoulders;
different manners and attitudes,
different smiles and frowns,
the hair and the faces,
the affect so strangely reflecting
such a different life

but the same pleasures and joys,
the same glazed look of overindulgence,
the same shabby disregard for propriety pushed by
time and experience.
the same chasing after status and fashion,
the same indignation that things are not right,
the same delight at good fortune and
appointment at its gauche cousin ill fortune

the movement of lips, of eyes,
of chins, of feet,
a grasping of warmth while it lasts, before
the chill and the dark return,
when Persephone takes her enforced recreational leave

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. Ari Walmsley permalink
    August 30, 2015 3:54 am

    That’s a feet on the ground poem, being a father is simplifying your life perhaps. Wow. Interesting. Thanks Scott. It’s so great you never stopped writing stuff, I’ve started writing again but it’s not fine tuned yet.

    • September 1, 2015 12:54 pm

      it takes time to polish the style, Ari, but when it’s an end in itself time is unimportant. glad to hear you’re writing. being a father is far from simplifying my life, but it does tend to get me to concentrate on particulars rather than trying to cover the whole field, so to speak.

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