Wednesday February 06, 2013
Hushed, long silent but now urgent beyond all measure
The past is constructed with large portions excised
A jigsaw puzzle missing the bridge arching over the brook
In the bottom left corner beneath a pale blue sky
The few lines of text give
No meaning within besides that which you feel
Sparkle within your weary heart
She turns to you, and only you
Entering the doorway with her back to a pall
Of a past you did not know
The checkbook slides across the marble table
A pen clicks once,
Twice more, anxiety bubbling
Yes, money
But for what, to whom?
Facing the past, or running away again-
Will this poem describe not one moment but two
Three, more?
Wrinkled brow and a tortured, lingering glance
The pen clicks once more, the checkbook slides away
The sun comes up as a new day dawns
And ushers forth the leaves falling, the nights darkening
A chill that stays long past its welcome
Only tired hope thinks that you're still
Here
Alive
Was the slow shake of the head merely the
Conductor's cue for a dirge?