The Specter of an Innocent Age – A Poem

I spend my time
lost in your shadow
beneath the cherry trees.

Schubert’s Arpreggione Sonata
is drawn to me by a feebly
remorseful wind.

Brightly colored boats
dagger across the bay:
their oars cutting into the dark blue water
that reflects a white sky.
The glare burns my eyes
and I seek shelter in the memory
of kitchen window curtains
fluttering in a paisley carelessness.

But even that grows still.
Lifelessly fading until it is no more
than the specter of an
innocent age.

We were the members of an improvisational
generation once who believed
in absolution.
Our spirits moved through dreams
and we would ignite the fire of the world
with our golden breath.

Where are we now?

I am content though.
On the cool grass beneath the bending branches
and green leaves
the day passes.

Your zealous heat
overwhelms me into a state
of disillusionment.

The evening comes and soon
too the night.
I will count the stars if the sky clears.

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4 thoughts on “The Specter of an Innocent Age – A Poem

  1. “We were the members of an improvisational
    generation once who believed
    in absolution.”

    Great line.

    I think it would strengthen the piece to name the composition (sonata in B flat…) rather than just say a composition. =)

    • Thank you for the comment, and the compliment, and I am very sorry for such a long delay in responding to you. I agree with your suggestion as to naming the piece, and have revised the poem to include it.

  2. This poem is an impressionist painting that feebly daggers….How on earth do you poets talk to each other? I really enjoy everything about this one and not knowing exactly why is lovely.

    • I am not sure how poets speak to each other. But I do like that you commented, and what you had to say. Honestly, I am horrible at commenting, which is something I have been wanting to change. Thank you for stopping by!

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