My old love’s gotten hitched, it seems. Her blog,
dated last Wednesday, sang out, We’re getting
married on Saturday. Such words could flog
a normal man, crack old scars, bloodletting
of what-might-have-beens. Here’s the irony:
Saturday was my birthday. My present
came with her next line: Called matrimony’s
approach her life’s grandest weeks. Can’t resent
that, knowing her: courage of a canyon’s
tightrope walker. Mind, talent and beauty
to match. Back when she had to abandon
ship, I felt I’d drown, sad captain’s duty.
A decade’s sailed by. While I still miss her,
I pray she thrives…but wish I could kiss her.
Roger Armbrust
July 28, 2009
