Observations, we've all made
Them, they're subtler than a
Whisper of disapproval or the
Mention of a disappointment.
Quiet thoughts, barely thought
Tucked away, secreted deep in
A dark corner of memory. You
Will know it as a fact. His mom
She was just like that, you will
Blurt it out, no malice, and no
Criticism, you resent neither
One of them for it's just how
They were, are in memory, and
In your observation. There's
No whisper of discontent on
Your mind, no disfavor to put
A pall over your thinking and
Hold you fast. And hard, in a
Strange place, booing ghosts.
Category Archives: Memories
Timing’s off
On rewind, it could be yesterday
Or maybe ten years past. The day
Might not matter or occur to you
As events recur, but for you there
Is a certainty. What you remember
Is framed in time. Time past or is
It tomorrow? The future will happen
Maybe as soon as today. Time is
Not a surety. It isn't fixed although
On rewind, yesterday is fixed, as
Steady as a rock or a remembrance.
A life, in sum
You are not your memories, although
They tell a story of your life and deeds
Time has traveled with you. You have
Traveled through time. Before and after
Then and now mean less than they once
Did. Time jumbles and connects, past
And present colliding. In time, it's all
One. Your memories will not define you.
Nostalgia
The past was built to last. I know.
So our history follows us. The used
To be is our now and we are tugged Towards what was. The emotional
Draw is strong, strange, electric as
Immediate as this morning's coffee.
It can cheer or haunt, that past of
Ours. I know. It is best to live with
No judgment, just our memories.
At a loss
His time is lost and eludes him.
Words are hard to find, but anger
Rises easily. Maybe it's all those
Missing words and the slipping
Time that make him mad. I know
It makes me sad and infuriates.
I feel unmoored. How must he be
Feeling? He's the one whose lost
Time and misplaced his thoughts.
This?
What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
This old thing? Why, thank you.
I've had it for years. I guess I
Like it cause I wear it that often.
No. It's a knock-off. I bought
It on the street. In Soho. Long
Ago. It's beginning to fade.
I'm going to have to trade it
In for something that doesn't
Look so frayed, but I like it.
Every time I wear it, I think of
That summer day and walking
Around in Soho. Feeling the
Fabric on the cart and the sun
On my face. I remember how
Much we laughed that day, too.
I was with a special someone
That summer day. In Soho and
We walked arm in arm. In Soho.
Tamara, really 