A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
|
BROKEN DREAMS
I knew that it would come to this,
That you would fly away.
The fate of every mentor is
To lose his protégé.
No matter why, no matter when,
It always seems too soon.
You say you will return again,
Like phases of the moon.
But you will find a changed man
From what I was before,
Doubtful that I ever can
Depend on you once more.
Though you are free to come and go
Like any other friend,
A partnership cannot be so;
It now comes to an end.
Reluctantly I set you free;
Do what you want to do.
Perhaps you will reach out to me;
I leave it up to you.
And though the moment makes me sad
To suffer such a cost,
I must reflect on what we had
And not on what is lost.
Potsdam, New York, 1998
|
|