Newborn Babies, Fading Roses by Frank Cavano

Newborn Babies, Fading Roses

 

Did she come here, can she stay here-

are there words to senseless songs?

Frightened rabbits, deadly weapons-

is it here that she belongs?

Newborn babies, fading roses-

can one catch and kiss the day?

Fleeting plaudits, fleeting treasures-

is there nothing here that stays?

 

Muscled shoulder, hard as boulder-

can you see her take his hand?

Estee Lauder after shower-

is her figure more than grand?

Do not answer, love’s a dancer

to a song without a tune.

And the winter wind a-blowing

must confuse the sun and moon.

 

Yellow crocus, now in focus-

save the ribbons from her hair.

Now all the world is fruitful but

her limb-bound nest is bare.

The nectarine is void of nectar-

summer snow the spring has chased.

Through a long and limping winter

falls the rain from her long face.

 

Shall we tell her, will it quell her

cloud of sadness, dance of fear?

Will a candle in the window

ever bring good fortune near?

Unmet wishes, dirty dishes-

is there nothing left to say?

Newborn babies, fading roses-

can one catch and kiss the day?

 

Frank Cavano

 

Frank Cavano is a retired physician who tries to say something about the ups and downs of being human in all my attempts.

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