by LJ Frank
scribblings
on a yellowed sheet of paper
placed in a book on a shelf
seldom visited save chance
words written
with abandoned passion
stirrings redeemed
my body’s clock retains its intimate cadence
irrespective
of any technological pulse
and as the sun rose
with morning impatience
I drove towards a remembrance
departed from as a youth
a fondness I kept to myself
age has few conciliatory notes
and poise is an acquired skill
and the genetics of my seasoning
oblige
being honest with self
though out of spiritual courtesy
an extension would’ve been polite
for the hour I reached the memory
the former village
was gentrified with a purpose
and recognition was nowhere in sight
like a dramatic actor who discovers
the stage they stepped on to
was a dress rehearsal for a comedy
so, I hiked to the nearby lake’s edge
with trust in recollection
a worn canoe sat alone with a graying paddle
wanting of a former life
and being rather adventurous
paddling would come with a price
the small vessel filled with water
the other shore was now out of reach
as if yesterday never existed
still
a vision arrived as a tear formed
from the cool air
of people gathering around a campfire
and the sound of elated voices
in the late summer of my consciousness
wading back to shore
a reflection was wishing to be noticed
looking over my shoulder
the misty blur of two people appeared
next to the heat of a fire
seeking a home within their hearts
through the whispering touch of each other
the poignancy of warm feelings
dispersed in the air like sparks
emotions linger then vanish
fading like the sunset
bright showers of red and yellow
painted on the canvas of deep blue
and time bends memory
into another life.