Thirty-seven is immersed in beauty,
Having served it since he was quite young.
If such a choice demands some sacrifice,
Refusing with regret the merely nice,
To live with the sublime cannot be wrong,
Yearning for it with a sense of duty.
So the moment flows, nor plain nor pretty,
Even as the time, nor short nor long,
Vale of voices passionate, precise,
Eases into clarity, a song
Nor more nor less than perfect, priceless, plenty.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
Subscribe to this site on Substack
Subscribe to this site on YouTube
Subscribe to this site on Medium
