Saturday, January 5, 2008

NEW YEAR (Sunday Scribblings prompt)

Granddaughter Daria took the above picture of my hands at our August celebration of Otto's 90th birthday (and of my 86th). It certainly is a reminder that we are no longer spring chickens. (Does that expression even exist any more?) The new year will add to each of our ages. The wedding ring in the photo has been on my finger for 2/3 of a century, except for my rare hospital stays when Otto has worn it on his little finger. I have hopes and fears for the world and for us personally, but this post concerns a personal fear: that inevitably one of us will not be here for the other one.

I wrote this poem several years ago without any specific couple in mind, but it becomes more and more personal as our years speed by.

The Old Lovers
Asleep, their bodies rest as spoon to spoon
or else are pressed together spine to spine.
One of them dreams a night of summer moon
when firm young bodies meet and intertwine.

One dreams they climb a trail in blazing noon,
leap boulders, savor scent of fir or pine,
gaze down on unknown lands they’ll travel soon,
their years before them in an endless line.

They dream apart, but each dreams they’re together.
They drowse then turn and waken face to face,
illusion’s threads unraveling seam by seam.
They touch the dear soft flesh of one another
then almost desperately the two embrace
fearing that one might soon hold only dream.

26 comments:

Marianne said...

The poem is so sweet, so tender, fragile yet there's strength of character. Lovely.

You have beautiful hands.

forgetfulone said...

Oh, my goodness, what a lovely poem! You write better than most spring chickens!

Skyelarke said...

beautiful beautiful poem. imagery, tenderness, fear, true love, dreams, absolutely and simply beautiful. thank you for sharing!

deathsweep said...

Absolutely beautiful!

Jen said...

That poem is so beautiful! Thanks for sharing.

I just recently found the Sunday's Scribblings site and have been following your last few posts. You inspire me to start doing the Scribblings as well. I think it's wonderful that you are blogging and think you're beautiful and adorable as well. =) Keep up the great work!

By the way, I love the photo that Daria took of your hands. I enjoy photography as well and did a search of her name. I love her web site and blog. She is a fantastic photographer. I really enjoyed looking through her images.

Angel said...

Beautiful...

Angel said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Redness said...

Ohhhh so very, very beautiful, Thank YOU so much for sharing this here!

bella mocha said...

So beautiful...the picture tells a thousand stories and reminds us how the old and the new become one.

I found this picture very moving...there are many hands that I would like to lay mine on top of, to capture that love in a photograph but sadly they are gone.

I am so glad that your granddaughter seized the moment!

gautami tripathy said...

I am so glad that I got to read this. It has that forever value. This is full of myriads of emotions.

Robin said...

That is such a beautiful look into an aging love. I can only hope to follow your example someday and go, in the words of a song penned by a dear friend whose chance was tragically cut short, all the way to the rocking chair with my own dear husband.

Penelope Anne said...

The poem is a masterpiece, the picture speaks volumes.
What a wonderful post.
If interested my Scribblings are located at The Writer's Lounge page of my blog.

Jennifer Hicks said...

I FELT the tenderness and connection. So beautiful.

barbara said...

Thank you. Beautiful

Lucy said...

86 and 90. God Bless You both, what a beautiful example of love and marriage. Your poem is so lovely as are your hands. Your fears are the same expressed to me by my inlaws. They've been married for 55 years and Like I'm sure-otto and you, They are truly inlove and Best friends. I would love to forward your beautiful post and poem to them. Thanks for sharing.

Penny said...

I write with tears in my eyes, your poem has moved me so much. Truly beautiful. Thank you *so* much for sharing.

Christy said...

Such a heartfelt poem, so tender and beautiful. Such love is a rare treasure.

Christy

SusieJ said...

So that's what it's like... When I was younger, I used to think older people were ready for life to move on, change and end. Now that I'm getting older, I realize that is not so true. But, I kept hoping that maybe, the older I get, it would just get easier.

This is lovely -- I'm so glad you posted this poem again.

SusieJ

tumblewords said...

Superb work! The photo is stunning and your hands look far younger than you say they are. :) This love story is re-readable and memorable! Thank you!

Chris said...

Spectacularly beautiful! I was very touched by your comments before the poem as well. Years do become more precious as they grow fewer.

lisrobbe said...

This was so touching. What a wonderful love story. It is so nice to see such a couple as you and your husband. To know that there are still great loves that exist in today's shattered ideal what what love means.

The picture of your hands is beautiful.

susan said...

Beautiful photo and how blessed you are to have each for all these years. Most of family members have not lived as long so your fear and tenderness held a very special meaning for me. Thank you.

nonizamboni said...

Your writing is a gift to me and this poem touched me since I am now in the habit of wondering the same about me and Dave. . .beautiful hands, my dear.
And the 'spring chickens', sometimes more than once in a day!

Linda said...

What a beautiful sonnet! You have such talent! The rhyme in here is not overpowering.

Love the pic, too. We've only been married 36 years but I've never taken my wedding ring off.

Honey And Papa said...

A beautiful poem, and a fear shared. It is such a comfort to hear the breath and snores of a loved one.

Mary A. Kaufman said...

Great blog. Google must not like me. Keeps telling me that I am not who I am and keeps sending me back for something or other that I don't understand.