Samson or Delilah on the shore?
04/01 2023
Midnight promenades,
How they shine softly across your expression
Of restlessness and homesickness.
Could I really blame you?
In my window as I gaze towards the west,
And humanity catches up to me:
Old ladies with memories of love lost,
Debussy and his Proustian notes,
Friends no longer friends passing by on the street.
What a familiar retreat,
To words, poetry and life-distant rhyme schemes.
She looks to fire in retrospective memory,
Not to mention to every touch of my arm.
Daylight promenades,
How they remind me of the moonlight
On every crease upon my weary face.
Could you really blame me?
Throughout the path our eyes meet,
And I can't but help to feel even more alone.
Young women come and go but yet you stay;
Handel sings our story through Cannery row.
Now friends wave to us as we pass by,
What unfamiliar territory
Of life reflected through life's gentle notes.
She looks at me through a future lens,
Does she see a Delilah, or Jonah on the shore?