A Poem by Rosanne Catalano

A soldier grips a sword

The rising sun glints red

A poet inscribes a word

The tapestry gains a thread

A newborn’s hearty cry

Hushes in candlelit song

Life’s template twists, turns awry

The boy must learn he’s strong

In the battlefield’s harsh clamor

In the hand’s unforgiving art

Whether twisted primal nightmare

Or diplomacy’s checkered heart

In a river crossed or not

In a moment’s quiet assent

A strong man bears his lot

Hollowed soul yearning, spent

For a woman dark or bright

‘Neath a garden’s moonlit skies

Matched for a lifetime or a night

The ancient song reprised

Whether he walks a path that twists

Or lies before him clear

Along that road he will revisit

The pattern of his years

Then by a quiet pool

Rich blue wine in hand

He salutes the petals that fall

As all dances to an end

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