I Keep Them In Here

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

© 2001 -2020 Harriet Gifford

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That slip beyond The tip of the tongue