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<br><br><center>*In masks outrageous and austere 
The years go by in single file*
—Elinor Wylie </center>


<br><br><center>Late at night
When the house is quiet
I hear heat
In the registers;

<br>Outside, it’s the dead of winter
And inside I’m listening to Wagner

A barren wind 
Whistles between the houses

And the hours click
Upon the abacus.


<br>They say nothing is ever lost—
Only misplaced

But that doesn’t explain us
Or this rabbit hole of years that

Makes me want to go back
And do it all over again

But this time, do it right…
And, of course, I can’t.


<br>In the picture album of life
I hate all my poses

I see myself at twenty, at thirty, at forty
And wonder where it got me

An office, a promotion, and a title,
And damn all to show for it

But you, Love, were there through it all
And that's made it all worthwhile.</center>



<br><br><center>© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

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