Passing,
Looked, saw, felt, smelled, tasted.
Gone, now. Yesterday again.
In passing,
Another time and space–remembered?
Wells of grief and regret have buried
What was at one moment
A shining beacon of light!
In passing,
A love–so deep, so full of power and strength,
Lies as ruins in the dusty basement of memory.
Only a passing glimpse of something,
Perhaps superficially unrelated,
And sometimes even
Far from the truth…remembers.
After passing,
A possibility that was
At one time only imagined,
But still, at one time, very powerful,
To some sense–in the mind,
Or the body, or the soul…
Still, after all, it Lives.
…
gsb3
Stumbling along the sidewalk 
Great to see you doing this, Gordon. I like the gentle incantatory repetition of “passing” – the poem moves well – its quiet music stays with me.
good luck with this!
Guy
Thanks, Guy. I appreciate you taking the time to visit and comment on this poem. Come back and visit anytime. I will be posting AT LEAST once a week on this site.