Precluded post production –
I saw your ghost today,
Your twin from another time and place.
He startled me,
As I walked from my new office
In my new clothes
From my new job.
My life with you was so long ago
You would not know me now.
I traded my flowing skirt
For the corporate uniform;
And my birks for a parking space
On the second floor every morning.
I’m happy. I’m content.
But I saw your ghost today,
As I walked to my car
And now I pause again,
Just for a moment,
“What if things had been different?”
Pen poised over paper, prepared to compose
I struggle to write my thoughts on Fall
On this Virginia afternoon, in this record-breaking heat.
I can recall those cool Septembers when Frost
divided the seasons distinctly
On the rocky coast of Maine, between tourist and winter.
Harvest blood moons rose low in the sky.
The rolling fogs were tinted vivid
With the oranges, reds of dawn, in a mantle of splendor.
Perhaps it is only Memory’s polish:
I think back upon bus stops and play
As crisp and stimulating, instead of just bitter cold.
I should really quit
my obsessions, they burn inside and
these tendrils and curls of smoke that
bring your face to mind
drift up and away from that bright red tip
like faded shadows
they are slowly killing me
with their insubstantiality
they grow dimmer, they leave me
with each breath
wanting even more
that I take now
of what we once shared.
I am lost.
New-hatched nymphs, gossamer wings
A buffet in flight