The 6th September 1997
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#81 The 6th September 1997
I wrote this poem immediately after watching the TV coverage of Princess Diana's funeral - with the tenth anniversary now approaching this is, perhaps, an appropriate time for public exposure.
Late summer, holding fall at bay,
Vain tries to light this sombre day,
The passing minutes each are tolled,
And we who stand and wait feel old.
Just half a life, two seasons long,
And yet, enough to sing her song,
The spring was her's, not our affair,
But all her summer she would share,
With millions she could never meet,
And countless lives made more complete,
By simply showing how to care,
For others with a cross to bear,
Too heavy for them on their own,
But lightened surely once they'd known,
The fearless touch, the whispered word,
With ease and tenderness preferred.
And now the flag draped carriage nears,
We read through unashame'd tears,
Young Harry's tribute to his Mum,
And we who stand and watch feel numb.
Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration
continues to this day. ~ Gene Perret
The difficulty with marriage is that we fall in love with a personality,
but must live with a character. ~Peter Devries
Infatuation is when you think he's as sexy as Robert Redford, as smart as
Henry Kissinger, as noble as Ralph Nader, as funny as Woody Allen, and as
athletic as Jimmy Conners. Love is when you realize that he's as sexy as
Woody Allen, as smart as Jimmy Connors, as funny as Ralph Nader, as athletic
as Henry Kissinger and nothing like Robert Redford - but you'll take him
anyway. ~Judith Viorst, Redbook, 1975da
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