Brian’sPoems

The Case for Living in Poetry

The anger of a young man
sometimes hardens
into the stone lions
guarding the gates of his castle.
While somewhere inside
there sits a dusty library,
filled with books on the art of war,
and maybe one slim volume of poetry
for those evenings
when the pinot noir
tastes like the sunshine
of summers long forgotten—
when this world was full of life
and the line between friend and foe
so easily erased by play.

He sits and reads and sips his wine
as the shadows grow in strength.
Each poem is a memory
of ocean waves,
the thrill of sport,
the laughter with friends,
the touch of her hand,
and the infinite possibilities
of a world forever changing.

Soon he will close the poems
filled with a fresh resolve
to live with others in love,
yet wholly unaware
he cannot drink his way
into a new being,
and that the wine
will wear off by morning.