Chase away the cashmere tears
Exploding from your eyes.
There's more to this than you and I.
The tears that fall, that plunder,
Are little more than work and wonder,
And the black rain that racks my shutters
Listens for the sky to mutter
Trodden words from weakening tongues.
I remember when I was young
And season's fruit the trees behung.
How the golden leaves warm the earth
Celebrating autumn's birth
And how the vagrant wind drives our worth
Through vagrant lives from summer's fold.
How we all have grown so old.
The fog that fills my lungs is cold.
It rolls off my shoulders
And shivers and shudders.
It plunges past me and grabs my skin.
My confidence is wearing thin.
The glistening cobwebs peal away,
Cool and grey, day to day.
How it soon will pass me by.
There's more to this than eye to eye.
Overhead, the cherry moon
Waxes and wanes
As seasons change,
As hours pass and swoon,
As mornings shift to afternoons,
And some would call me strange,
But I am just a trinket on the shelf,
A picture framed in maple wood,
A fading face, a fading self.
But there will be other times
For every rhythm and every rhyme.
How we all will feel sublime,
(And yet we all will feel alone)
Walking barefoot on the cobblestone,
My only company my shadow
Breathing heavily at my feet.
Oh, how I'd hoped to find retreat.
Cherry blossoms from the meadow
Lay enlaced upon the street.
There they moan and whine
Waiting for a glimpse of time,
Just a touch of some immortal,
Just a touch of the divine.
How the foolish ones will chortle
At the dust of man's decline.
How it all will fade away
And quickly waste to dusty clay.
The purring rain that licks my windows
Drags its claws along my brow.
It seems there's always something more.
Winter's feet will find the shore,
And sweep away the summer's dust
Beneath the rugs of seasonal trust
And unearned lust.
It can never be how it was before.
The wind will gust
The rain will snore
And painful leaves will find autumn's floor.