Dangling Conversation

It's a portrait framed in wood
By stiffly measured lines
And ancient golden ratios
Perfection of the times.


Beauty cold and faded
May's clear eyes are dead
What little sparks of passion endured
Now absent from her head.


Monotony has won
My dusty C. S. Lewis
Abandoned to the attic shelf
Yes, safe, but long dismissed.


Freedom proudly sought
Exchanged for indifference
Trapped behind these cultured clones
Age of innocence?


Was comfort worth the smothers
By naive and shallow form
When I had my pick of intellects
To keep the embers warm?


Forget how sharp are thorns
And false a traitor's kiss
The tangled webs we weave are silk
Truth cannot exist.


No talk of brilliant poets
Or Augustinian cities
Henry's feast of Crispian
Nor James' calloused knees.


Ellen's vivid shadows
Have faded with a sigh
Slowly hardening like the mold
I vowed I would defy.


Dangling conversation
When weather news are bleak
And gossip of the neighbor's cat,
Of what is there to speak?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by Edith Wharton's "Age of Innocence" and a Simon & Garfunkel tune.

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