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Cause this is where I put these things

A squirrel that leaps across crackling leaves
is not the old one you saw here last year.
Time passes so dependably. We grieve
as each remembrance interrupts you here.

The university students are not
the students you remember from before
or friends who fell away, you see again in thought,
but souvenirs of those you see no more.

These fallen leaves are not those you collected
in your youth, but were just new last spring.
So whirls the world, before you have reflected,
but after leaves a timeless pause to cling

and still recall those dear ones lost to time
while breathless moments on the path you climb.

(Yeah, yeah, its kinda strained at the end, but I've only been working on it two days. My way of coping. Mr S' friend and shop partner Uncle Mat has been in an ICU for a couple months, in Hawaii, and yesterday they finally pulled the plug on the ventilator. It took a few hours after that. Mr S is busy taking care of the shop and house and phone calls.)


( 5 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 12th, 2011 07:58 pm (UTC)
My condolences to you both.

Thank-you for the poem.
Oct. 12th, 2011 11:11 pm (UTC)
Thanks for reading
and your thoughts
Oct. 12th, 2011 09:03 pm (UTC)
I'm sorry. Poor Mr S.
Oct. 12th, 2011 11:12 pm (UTC)
Thank you. He is the zen master of keeping busy. Me, not so much.
Oct. 18th, 2011 02:42 am (UTC)
I really like the poem. I agree the end could be polished, but I really, really like it.

My sympathies are with you and your husband.
( 5 comments — Leave a comment )