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Poem

MARY HARBIN

There in the alley blossoms And in the silence he stands
the organ-grinder looking out at the sea}
plays his simple tune with a faint look of
of love} fear
and the waves and fright
from the sea and auiakening
roll onto the sand } in his glassy feverish eyes.
and the sweet-smelling
from the apple trees Away from the sea}
fall to earth and away from the alley
below. and away from the blossoms
on the apple trees}
And somewhere is an empty room}
a smile vacant
or a touch and bare}
of a hand and silent
brings joy beyond
to a searching the silence
heart. of man.

Ah} An empty room-
to love an empty heart-
is to live; and never a smile
to love is to or a touch
live. of a hand.
Just the emptiness-
But the grey cat from the alley the silent emptiness}
steps back from the sea} and the cat
so the rolling waves staring
won}t touch his white paws. silently
out at the
sea.

Ah,
to love
is to die;
to love is to
die.

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