Night Geese

Calling geese swept up the years.

Blossoms, snow, discarded days

joy strains forward, memory interferes.

Seasons morph despite our fears

of the bald man the mirror displays.

Calling geese swept up the years

that saw our plans reduced to tears.

When every dream so slightly strays

joy strains forward, memory interferes.

Despite every efforts it disappears

all things leave and nothing stays

calling geese swept up the years.

When someone lost suddenly appears

a chance resemblances that quickly frays

joy strains forward, memory interferes.

On a cold autumn night as winter nears

or spring’s first blossom suddenly cheers

calling geese swept up the years.

Joy strains forward, memory interferes.

Guy