The Echoes Of Years Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Angles of light proceed me—Soon they will be
Fishing around my skull—
In amphitheaters of skullduggery I will swear
That you can never remember—
Now tell me that you are all right as you roller skate
With your echo—
Even my wife will never discover who you are—
And my children will grow up
Like a garden of pearls beside the sea—
And we will put Christmas trees into our house—
And still the years will echo
But you will never come again to my door.