When when oh when?

From medialn on pixabay…a place on the internet that I do love.

All my princes 
are charming, in 
dreams solid gold. 
But when thoughts get

alarming, I 
lock chest and fold. 
Above clock and 
calendar, the

structure and flow 
gets silent yet 
bumpy when feel-
ing chances know.

Vie for bration. 
Free for quency. 
Wave to the sine. 
When en turns oui.

NOTE: Rose. Diamond. Ennui. When? In the last four months, I’ve attended the memorial services of two friends known since my own childhood years. Both were gifted, talented athletes. This poem is dedicated to Diane and Rob. When, oh when, will we meet again? The answer is in the ring and the rose — for we will meet in that center. Written with love…and mystery…in gratitude.