POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
VILLANELLE: THE PSYCHOLOGICAL HOUR
I
I had over-prepared the event—
that much was ominous.
With middle-aging care
I had laid out just the right books,
I almost turned down the right pages;
Beauty is so rare a thing . . .
So few drink of my fountain.
So much barren regret!
So many hours wasted!
And now I watch from the window
rain, wandering busses.
Their little cosmos is shaken—
the air is alive with that fact.
In their parts of the city
they are played on by diverse forces;
I had over-prepared the event,
Beauty is so rare a thing . . .
So few drink at my fountain.
Two friends: a breath of the forest . . .
Friends? Are people less friends
because one has just, at last, found them?
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