These days I sense the closing of the door
that through the years was always open wide.
My little boat waits tethered on the shore.
I do not have the strength to launch it nor
the will to even take a walk outside.
These days I sense the closing of the door.
The pleasures of my youth are now a chore;
why hike or row when you can rest or ride?
My little boat waits tethered on the shore.
Asleep, I dream that I am three or four,
a pre-teen, adolescent or a bride;
and yet, I sense the closing of the door.
Today I wish for less instead of more.
More than my share I’ve had; I’m satisfied.
My little boat waits tethered on the shore.
And mindful of what nature has in store,
I’m ready for what cannot be denied.
These days I sense the closing of the door;
my little boat waits tethered on the shore
Judge’s Comments:
This is my choice for 1st Place. It’s a terrific villanelle, with a graceful handling of rhyme and repetition.
Joan Wiese Johannes
Poet’s Statement:
I wanted this poem in first person, but the early draft felt inauthentic because I was just about to take off for a hiking vacation in Glacier National Park and Banff. I understood the feeling in the poem, however, having heard it expressed by older relatives. My aunt lived to be 95; I used the title to give her the voice in the poem.