Rocking In The Sun Poem by Bob Bowers

It was not always like this
The soft creak of my caned back rocker
As I shift my weight,
Unburden myself

From these words I have read
In this book upon my lap,
Or the strain my body feels,
The sharp pain shooting down my hip

Into my leg
Like the cold sting
A mountain stream
Carries in early spring.

It was two days ago
It seems, that we moved
In slow rhythm with the moon
Colored like forsythia in the shadow of the night,

Turning the night to dreams,
Our first time together,
Your hand in mine
And our hearts in our eyes.

I shift to gain the sun
Slipping through these dusty window panes,
And hear the snap of the cane back breaking,
No longer able to bear the strain.


November 26,2003