Long Lost Poem

Actually, that's a lie.

When I started this blog, I posted my good poems first. The most recent are the ones that barely escaped the round file.

This one I didn't think worth printing. But in the interest of candidness, I'm going to print it anyway.

NECESSARY REGRETS

I
have
a
mystery
in
mind.

it is shut up tight, key turned firmly in the lock,
between my dead mother
and my dying father.

I see a child who longs to play the violin,
in mind-felt melodies that sound unceasing,
orchestrated by the heart;
she is safe
as dense green woods would have her,
or fog that sleeps along the water's edge.

Now see the child is grown.
Her father dies alone
in a sterile nursing home;
receives a few reluctant visitors,
abusing them all, old dog that he is.
The ghost of old regrets, long past, forgiven,
fades surely in the memory of
her mother's firm sweet smile
in the face of death.

I
have
another
mystery
in
mind:

this one lies weeping
between the first innocent falling
and the last lost love.

And many other mysteries:
the children I have lost
and the hints of return;
the music that played itself out
and the becoming
of these words.
. . .