If blindness came to me

I would remember roses;

Structure tight and winding

To a center

Would be easy.

 

I would try to remember

The face I saw yesterday

In a huge cloud

Whipped by wind

And how the white face grew

And changed

From the wispy profile of a boy

To a wise

And somehow patient old man;

I would remember just now

The food in your beard

And how you said

As you always say

Before wiping it away,

I´m saving it for later.

 

But when I close my eyes

I cannot remember your face.

Sometimes it troubles me.

I remember pictures of your face

But your real face

Like my own

Is too close

And it eludes me.

 

You were curious when I threw away

Our old photo album of Rhodes Island;

You didn´t want to see

The photographs I kept

But all day you were asking

And so at last I handed them to you,

The photographic little stack,

A memory of you leaning against

A café wall,

You sipping black coffee,

You in your indian t-shirt,

You with the stray cat on your lap,

You looking down at it

With a smile and a kind word

For a skinny striped beast

No one wanted.

You in your favorite sunglasses.

 

-lm

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s