by David Roderick

We shall remain.

Here I stay,
So grim's the day.
I'll fade away.
What's more to say?

The staff rotate,
Their yearly shift.
They migrate, and like a safe,
Reside to dwell to pontificate.

I watch the flowers, and the bees,
Germinate, and through the breeze
Deliberate. What's more to wait?
I'll remain, to meet our fate.

Slowly, lacking certainty,
I watch the chained, to be free.
Out there, it is quietly slow.
So I'll remain. They watch me grow.
But speed? And what?
They can't discern,
The lack of superficial urns.
Time, perchance, that awful thing.
I'll watch these birds, and make them sing.
I'll watch the fools: these awful men.
And horses; evening of the fen.
I'll eat the food; the merry dance:
The medical necromance.

With pills, to ease my exercise.
I shall grow to awful wise.
The apogee of mystic dove
Antithesis, of mortal love.

Abstract thoughts, bridge the gap.
The life flowing, shall not sap.
The quintessence of the perigee.
Like a falcon, we shall see.
The fire escape in my eyes.
The powerful are meagre size.
The genius of our mere pen,
Like a swan, to start again.