A Road Away
I have enough memories from the past
to last me for the rest of my life. My
unstinted mind will not hide them from the
times that they were born.
A small country church, a chorus of crows;
the splashing sounds of a brook running
through the Birch trees. The wind caressing
a colossal row of Oaks in the field.
Death, a road away from the weathered house
of worship, followed by black feathered angels.
No longer will the water beneath the Birch cool,
nor will the winds surrounding the Oaks embrace
The rocker on the porch is stilled, no hand waves
goodbye. In a cobwebbed corner of the room, the
sun shines through a cloudy window, as the image
of tattered curtains dance in a nearby mirror.
Childhood is dead.
In Memory of Charlotte – “Life is short, live it. Love is rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it. Memories are sweet, cherish it.”