The Other Side of the Mirror

Our best poems might not be written yet
Nor would I want to burden them that way
Our sweetest apples bitten with regret
For our fear of missing something someday
Anticipation hesitates to wait
But realization might arrive late

Or some poem I wrote some years ago
For all its crudeness might yet prove my best
Too close to see I know I never know
I wait and study as though for a test
As though life were some university
With grades in letters and work before rest

Is it me or are all things in motion?
Earth pulls the moon the moon pulls the ocean
And each of us is a philosopher
Pondering the meaning of him or her
Of what can be and what she means to me
Loves past persistent loves which never were
But (do I dare to hope it?) which could be

Life itself is the test which teaches me

So without anyone to tell me how
I have to do the best I can for now

N.obody can tell you
O.f heaven or hell you
W.ill simply have to find out for yourself

Nor yet can they show you
They do not yet know you
Except to choose a poem from your shelf

But realization might arrive late
Anticipation hesitates to wait
For our fear of missing something someday
Our sweetest apples bitten with regret
Nor would I want to burden them that way
Our best poems might not be written yet

And yet it is not given us to say

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVII

Keep writing my friend. When all is said and done I'm sure we'll all have our favorites. But, keep writing just in case the best is yet to come. Wink.

Well and wisely read and said, my friend and fellow poet Rodger.

Thank you for reading and caring about my poetry. Your insights are always clear and right, and I appreciate them, as I appreciate you.

Respect and solidarity,

+Stevie