Slip through and under, slip over and beyond
The way the light Fell across the room That day
Memory settled Like motes of dust
Under the floorboards, Fallen through the corners of the house.
Where do I keep them? I keep them in here.
Hiding harmless assumptions And misunderstandings
That slip beyond The tip of the tongue
It sparkled The last time I saw it
Is it any better? Is it any worse?
It is not What I expected.
I was only as tall as the long grass, When sat out under the sun, For a brief and delicate time
Early spring blossom, White and delicate, Like the things made out of paper, That littered my childhood.
The outstretched fingertips, The tip of the tongue whisper
Summer winds blowing Strongly across ripe wheat Rippling darker currents
Time is spent Slipping past the path Following scents of promise
I am not sure that I completely remember
The gentle movement of leaves The echo of empty halls
And there are some things That we just Don't talk about
Rain and time Reflect back to us Only the things We choose to recall
Forgetting the rest