For My Parents on Their Thirtieth Anniversary
What is a mark in time but reckoning of it?
Each anniversary carries in a small black pouch
Strapped to its belt, a slight reminder
That we all are mortal. Our great grandfather clock
Ticks aural counterpart of sleek mahogany and polished brass
As if to say, with gravity: MEMENTO TU IPSE MORTALIS ES.
We smile; the ghosts, while not dispersed, assume
A kindlier countenance; and grouping now
In twos and threes with ghostly champagne glasses
Broken long ago – Do I discern our own visages
In their farthest rows? – toast you as do I:
To longer years of laughter-loving life.