Thursday, October 20, 2011

Cohen and the apple

your toe has dipped, swirled and tingled
in the clear crystal pool of first love
and yet it recoiled, to the burning chill

you've held an apple, stroked it
bitten it
but the juices flowed bitter
for it was not the apple
and there is, but only one, you see

now onward through the garden
and the landscapes of growing
you blaze a trail that must be your own

and as you breeze and sometimes trip
through the lush fields of your passing
i tell you this, through a knowing fear

carry your book of Cohen
through the mall, into class
right there out front
for others to see

there will be one who will notice
and he will have eyes deep as silence
and hair where it don't belong
and he will be alone

and he will love you
and you him, but only for a time
and then you both will grow sense
and live as you must

i tell you this in knowing
he will not stay, nor
will you let him
but in this journey yet unseen
but somewhat perceived
he will be the apple
and the juices shall never
run dry, vanquishing regret