I Slowly Let Go

I Slowly Let Go

I stare up into the sky at night
and remember all the stars I used to see.
I remember what the stars once meat to me
spread across the sky like silvery fireflies.

I gave my heart to the sky at night.
I was enamored and delighted.
My love was pure, but misguided.
In the end it was an unrequited love.

Now I'm up in the mountains, it's the middle of June.
The Purple Fringed orchids are in bloom.
Held in the arms of a lazy afternoon,
I slowly let go.

I stare up into the sky at night,
recalling when I was a younger man,
going into battle without a plan.
My dreams were always more subtle than grand anyway.

Now I'm up in the mountains, it's the middle of June.
The Purple Fringed orchids are in bloom.
Held in the arms of a lazy afternoon,
I slowly let go.

Illuminated by fireflies,
a young mother with infant in tow,
wishes me a happy summer solstice.
I slowly let go.
I slowly let go.

I stare up into the sky at night,
and remember all my friends who shared the stars with me;
I remember what my friends all meant to me,
spread across my life like silvery fireflies.

The boy down the hill doesn't understand his parents
in their suburban paradise.
Every choice he makes is a subconscious rejection
of his parents' way of life.
The dancer from Chicago has a dream,
and she sets out on her.
Her parents hope she fails, tucks her tail,
and returns home.
Why is it so easy for parents to forget sand castles
and angels in the snow?
What I'd like for my daughter I keep to myself,
and I slowly let go.

I Slowly Let Go
© 2001 Gregg M. Pasterick