Poem - THE MOBILES

THE  MOBILES 

They come they go,
They flit about.
The laugh they cry,
They scream out loud
     The Mobiles

In my own quiet way
I hear them say
Were here today
But not to stay
     The Mobiles

The rushing winds,
The racing tides,
The shaking earth,
The lowering skies
     The Mobiles

The stage is set
For great events.
The stage itself
is only lent, to
     The Mobiles

They play their parts,
They make their bow,
The curtain drops.
 They've passed us now
      The Mobiles

The passing show
Is passed and gone
The caravans have rolled along
Headed for some distant throng
     The Mobiles

The passing years
Have shed their tears.
The masks of traji-comedy leer
Doddering age - full of fear
No longer mobile
No longer mobile

by Hillie Feldman  undated.