Twenty-three
© 2006 by Joe Strell and Marie Jacobsen
Lay the worn cards down upon the table
In a weary one-armed game of solitaire
The backs are softly blurred and gently faded
The patterns now obscured and lost to time
Now I hope to find
Familiar faces taken from a dream
When you were twenty-three
—An age that I never knew you to be
Trace the paisley on the couch with a lazy finger
Pondering the afternoon and how it lingers
The bushes twist and sway outside the window
In gentle breezes felt but not heard
The smell of laundry drying down in the basement
With the children tucked away upstairs and out of range
Floating down the stream of days left far behind
Peaceful and resigned, untroubled and serene
When you were twenty-three
—An age that I never knew you to be
When the time had come and you were ready
How little could be done with a hand unsteady
When you were twenty-three
—An age I never knew you to be
The sun sets slowly with a hint of desperation
And the whistle of a train to guide it on its way
Turn on the lamp next to the couch
Shedding light upon the pages
Of a book with a desert view
Of jagged blue
Mountains
Somewhere else indeed
When you were twenty-three
—An age that I never knew you to be
