Age, Companions, Heart, Mothballs, River, St. Lawrence, youth
How often did I hear words of dismissal
when I spoke of having a summer place
on the river
The place where remembrance lives.
Of course one doesn’t listen
when the urgency of encroaching age
interferes with rational decisions.
Of course it is too far from the present life in mid-country
to return to the northern dream where youth was spent
with lavish squander
on islands of mysterious importance.
But the place of dreams is never far from memory
arguing with the concept of too far away.
So which is it? Too far in space or too near at heart?
Of course we know we can’t return
or bring back the companions of old.
Yet there is a double reality here –
as in a dual dimension.
Youth living side by side with the reality of age.
So I suppose the time has come finally
to fold the linens and the memories
and tuck them away where
they will lie quietly
wrapped in the mothballs of put-aside.