She is the Maypole


She is the maypole
I dance around.
Rooted to her core.

All my selves
weaving, wound,
in and out the years

in some late dying
sun: the sound
of my hopping youth

to the sauntering age
of now, is found
gaily,streamers binding,

Love reining in-
us tied, bound
connected, nearing.

Celebrate
the totem of her,
cored in constancy.

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One thought on “She is the Maypole

  1. Such tender recollections of the years gone by and still there as they were, always.
    An umpteenth wedding anniversary poem of a light, apperciative and accepting nature.
    Well, that’s the way I read it. Probably totally wrong. Again 😉

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