A number poem about being at
the age of forty-three:
Forty-three's a summer
afternoon
On a weekday bathed in
molten light.
Rivers slide through pools
of gold. Bright birds
Take off from branches
thick with sheltering leaves.
Yet shadows start to
lengthen 'cross the lawn.
There you are, listening
for a tune,
Hearing one from somewhere
out of sight,
Remembering the song, but
not the words.
Every note's a joy, a gift
one grieves.
Every night's another
chance for dawn.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Audio and Video Music: White
River. By Aakash Gandhi. Music free to use at YouTube. Illustration Credit: AI.
To see this poem on my site, go to https://www.poemsforfree.com/43g.html. For more number poems, go to https://www.poemsforfree.com/numberpoems.html .
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