Immunes

Immunes

and with each passing day

he shoulders the weight,

as if he were the only strongman

left in his own heart's circus-

there will be more stiff breezes,

and more Spring blankets to chase;

but there will be no more Maggies

to catch them on the fly.

and with each passing year

he cradles the memories,

as if he were the only gatekeeper

left to tend the garden.

there will be more silent dances,

and more Summer chances to take;

but there will be no more Maggies

to seal them up good and proper.

and with every passing moment

we carry the burden of proof;

as if we were so immune

to such as such.