Life Goes On

It tends to ramble, cover all ground
And long outstays its welcome
With topics old and new, and dark and light,
A bit of everything, but not too much.
At least it tries.
Sometimes it tries until it drops.

It hangs around outside pub doors
Wearily wandering, slumped, head down
Studiously staring at cracks and pavement gum
Adhering itself to nothing
Neck hung from the weight of it all
Lest it dare stare upward at its betters in heaven
Who have found the parting in the wall and left for paradise.

But, when these bodies go, life just goes on.
You’ll never hear the end of it, either.
It’ll coarsely complain, gripe and grouse
Say it’s not got long
Before arranging a catchup a century from then.
It's never now, but then, or else it’s way back when.
It isn’t good at planning. It just sort of happens.
Peach and brown and green and wood and blood
Among the stones and mortar. Mortal but ongoing.

Because life does go
On. The black cars die,
The rain and sun wash up and burn the residue.
But songs still ring from trees
And living rooms and screens as wide as worlds.
The globe is full of it, can’t get rid of it.
Though it’s trying hard.

Don’t know what to do with it.
Wouldn’t do without it.
And death becomes it.
But let’s not word it like that right now.
Let the birds sing, the plebs debate and laugh and share their warmth.
And let our lives go on.