Old lovers promenade the beach,
bare feet, hands held, they pace the last
of what is theirs. No need for speech,
They walk united by their past.
They pass, united by the walk
of other pairs of lovers, some
still young, engaged in lovers’ talk,
not yet aware that love is dumb.
The tide goes out, the tide comes back,
as one and one and one retrace
their steps to hunt for what they lack
but never find. Their other face.
Broken quatrains of faltering feet
search for a time they cannot beat.
Janet Kenny has metamorphosed from painter to classical singer to anti-nuclear activist, researcher, writer, illustrator and poet. Started in New Zealand and zigzagged across the globe to finally settle in Australia. She has published fairly widely as a poet. Some of her poetry can be found at her website http://janetkenny.netpublish.net/