Will Barber - Apostrophe

Why is it, do you know, that
Memories of you are silver,
And I stumble onward
Seeking your steep path?

Rough roots obtrude there:
My knees are bloodied,
Yet I scramble on - your glimmer
Easily eludes my grasp.

Scholars speculate:
Is perseverance a virtue?
Ivy twines marble eyes,
Red bricks entomb the words.

Always too late the truth,
Too fleeting the moment,
Too short the breath,
And beauty twists away;

Dreams of dreams,
Memories come again;
Your trace eludes me.
I reluctantly awake.

Another day to seek
A chance to fail, again:
Always the gentle things
Fly upward, and I fall.

2008

Will Barber

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apostrophe-3/