Say Anything

I wrote this sonnet some time ago when I was feeling blue. I visited with a friend recently whose own mood reflected the tone here -- and for whom I posted yesterday's sonnet, Toward Hope.

Say Anything

by Gideon Burton

In time the seasons seasoned, thick enough

for sediments of sentiment to swell

and harden, thickened with a mud as tough

as easy distance made them in the spell

of unforgotten and avoided faith.

Who knows what healing, what relief or grace

might well have settled, quiet in a place

reserved for friendship thorough in its trace

of due alliance, cobbled in the past

and worn to supple leather in the task

beyond this mere suggestion, slowly fast.

It isn’t wise to question, nor to ask.

The yestertime evaporates away;

say anything, the edges start to fray.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - sparktography