USA

curtisstephenson@yahoo.ca

Titans and Hares

He left with their wishes,
He harbored them,
Under the memory of blurry willow
The grassy arch that was his seat
Where curious puzzles were thoughts,
Beloved's being, the quagmire.

They said he was going to the nursery of Titans.
A duty, where only One goes
To spread himself on an ice age,
To swim with the pride of Narwhal.

He left…
With the privacy of a sun-dried aquatic night,
On his amiable breast
Lay the weathered hand
That penned a monument to natural beauty.

They said he was going to the nursery of Hares.
Where the predators of emancipation
Can be one with the prey of dandelions.

His chum had asked him, before farewells,
'why does your search for freedom take you now?'
The man spoke with his thought-wearied eyes,
'I once felt the word, freedom, 
on a whisper of tears and hourglass wonder.
For so long…
Now I must forget.'    

© All Copyright, 2000, Curtis Stephenson.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.