Memory

A pen is out, the mind reopens

Its secrets and their silence broken

A smoke is lit, the coffee’s black

It’s time for thought, for going back…

For going back to snow and frost:

The winter spills, all color lost

Skis unloaded, poles unpinned

Glinting bevels, biting wind

The lodge’s heat that primed your fingers

The moment lost, its warmth still lingers…

For going back to all that clings:

Family ties, now severed things

A need to go, a plea to stay

The flotsam friends who drift away

Deleted contacts, faded pages

A past embittered as it ages…

For going back to fervent whispers:

Lands of burning fields and blisters

Limestone slabs, the Southern Cross

Muddy waters leagues across

The jungle deeps, the belts of sand

The wonders I don’t understand…

The spell is burst. The present calls

The corporate combine slowly draws

My smoke is snuffed, the coffee’s cold

It’s time again for growing old.