ROCKPORT JULY 1, by Dottie Smith Mann
Slow sad tears of resignation
Once and again and again the solitaire reminds me
Doing the right thing does not always get a good result
Sometimes the game is lost even when it begins well
And there are good moments
“There are no more valid moves.”
The eight year old within cries softly
“But I did the right things, why can’t I win?
I love him so, we play so well together, he makes me laugh.”
I hold her in my soft soft arms and kiss her soggy face.
We look to the blue June sky, the perfect Rockport day,
And vow to make it ours… All the joy and rapture
All the beauty of sea and sky and summer flowers
All that is more incredibly wonderful
Because it will not last.
I take her hand and walk the Lane eastward
Toward the sea.