A New Poem 2024, An Old Poem 2004

Once the dark of night was dark,

a black sky with stars and perhaps a moon.

Now, what nature had intended

as a time of rest,

has been usurped by man-made lights.

Those outside my window

betray the never-ceasing activity of man.

As I lie there on my bed,

attempting to shut out the light,

ghostly images, welcome or

unbidden, float in

through the filter of my mind.

Are they or I reality?

Phantoms of the past,

of times already lived.

Exempt from time and space,

they surface momentarily

before giving way to others.

They refuse to leave,

lurk half-hidden, waiting for the chance

to emerge once more in a world

to which I had given closure,

or so I thought.

---

Familiar, nameless faces.

Voices.

Some inhabit still that outer world

but time has left its mark.

Images, words said, unsaid.

The fleeting passage of a kiss, a tear,

a time when they and I were young.

A multitude passing in review.

There is no way to tell them

to go back to whence they came. 

They are the shadows of that which was,

of that which might have been.

Some are welcome

but leave me with a feeling of regret.

Reflections of love, both given and received,

reflections of a past I would willingly forget.

Eventually they move back to whence they came,  

and the hoped-for oblivion of sleep wins out

until the pressing requirements of every day

break down the barrier of sleep.

Another night will have passed,

the light once more will be that of the sun.