I turn the page slowly,
My fingers lingering,
My thoughts turning.
Touching the faces of
Loves passed on now, closing my eyes as
My heart summons memories.
I realize I am holding my breath; silence.
To hear them say my name just once more.
So much time held in one picture book,
So much love.
There was a tiny little apartment building next to our trailer park.
Sometimes on a summers evening a man would stand by his open window and play the bagpipes.
A private concert for us.
Whoever heard first would shout to the rest of us.
We all would clamor and climb the fence to sit on top of it,
To watch and listen.
It was eerily quiet when he stopped and closed his window. At least until we climbed down off the fence
To resume playing whatever it was we were playing in our imaginary world.
The momentary suspension of time
Never spoke to him
But enjoyed the music.
Still remember the mystery and fascination with the melodies.
I stepped outside
And it hit me like a wave;
The smell of fresh dirt;
The forest floor and raspberries.
Right there on the cement
Surrounded by cars and buildings.
Heartfelt memories tugging.
A scent that cannot be duplicated by man.
I knew instantly in my heart it was my father,
Gone 20 years now.
I was taken back to childhood
Days and picking delicious raspberries in the woods;
Eating more than ended up in the bowl.
I composed myself and
Walked to my car.
Sitting in the front seat;
I turned the key to start the
And there was his song playing.
The one my siblings and I requested on the Radio station the day of his funeral.
I am glad he reminds me he is near.
There are people i remember,
I have forgotten
Until i see their
And memories return
But not the same memories
And i think
Isn’t that odd
What means the most?
Some are ghosts
And some still wander here with feet upon
I am left pondering
As they walk away;
And i remember
There are things I have left undone.
I dreamt a dream of times past;
Of you and I.
And I was overwhelmed with
I began to weep.
How can my heart be light yet heavy at once?
Thinking to capture you
I reach for pen and paper.
To write you down.
To read you forever.
The ink had run dry.
To tired and weary to rise from my bed
I kept the memories
Lit inside me.
I placed my head on my pillow
And went back to dreaming instead .
And here I am once
With scattered photographs
And unfinished poems in
With memories in the
I cannot recall.
As the hours
Seemed so often to crawl by.
Every hand I have held.
Every sunrise I have beheld.
Pulsing through my veins.