The In-Between

What’s to be said of the in-between?

When the grass still grows, but still ain’t green?

As it climbs the side of worn-down shed,

that seeks to grow where the lumber’s dead?

 

What’s to be said of the middle voice

of the blushing bride who cried for choice?

Who was thrown in a mold she could not fit,

and sought to shape what the others quit?

 

What’s to be said of the centered road,

the graveled path, where the wagons slowed?

As the grounds the Harpers knew before,

were sealed by paves in graves of yore.

 

What’s to be said of the in-between?

When the end is near, and yet, so keen?

As the daughter ponders on her life

and sees inside, both child and wife?

-Amy Struthers

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s