Gazing, into this small window of time,
I see stories unfold on crisp pages,
I see beauty in this window of mine,
Butterflies escaping cocoon cages,
Bright eyed wings uncurl all in a flutter,
on the branch of the tree with the green leaf
Browning, drifting, crinkling, joining clutter.
Dear window, in mind’s eye, such a brief
journey, to glimpse a faraway place
I know not when I shall see once again,
or feel the cold pinch, the hot slither lace
down to the fingers, wrapped around a pen;
In need I am of the window I see,
That gathers dust and is locked with a key.
Fade and Haze
by Mark Griffin
My memories make me me, don’t they?
The stories I tell; the loves I’ve known
and lost. But what if those memories fade and haze.
Where’s me then?
The Old String Vest
I can remember as if it was yesterday,
Gran’dad wearing his old string vest.
It was quite tight across his belly,
but much slacker across his chest. Continue reading “The Old String Vest”
Flame
by Bilal Saloo
Inhaling the scent of melted wax, of candles,
lit and burned down to their plate,
forever present, an aroma lingers in moving air, Continue reading “Flame”
Convoluted
by Baldrick
Sometimes the knife twists
Or the pill
Is the bitterest
Or the path has snapped
And you find yourself back
At the beginning
The mind is convoluted Continue reading “Convoluted”
Old Love
Threads of shared sepia memories
bind us together.
We share painful moments
in our arthritic haze. Continue reading “Old Love”