8:15 on Tuesday...
the sun, already making its majesty known, in the sky, passing through pink and orange, unveils a soft blue over the lush green canopy of the forest behind our house. pops and creaks of the wood deck, settling from an evening stretch, accompanies the twitter of birds, in a curious serenade to the new day.
a family of deer shyly poke their heads between trees, then cautiously step across the lawn to nibble at cast off grapes beneath the arbor that stands at the end of the brick path off the back of our house. at their nuzzling, butterflies stir from the vines, performing a dance, dipping and turning.
pungent coffee perfumes the air, rising in waves from my mug, as i draw its warmth through my fingers. this is the moment i realise i have forgotten you.
the sudden realization starts a hammer against the anvil of my chest, a great squeeze grips my heart, crumbling it like paper bound for the trashcan. i want to retreat to the bedroom, to curl on the floor beside the bed, still wrapped in my clothes, closing my eyes to see if i can find you, but i stay, fear of finding nothing pinning to my seat.
you are a fog, barely perceived, there one moment then gone. i tremble, unable to even conjure your face. the touch of your hand, i once relished, erased. all the words once spoken, lay in a jumbled pile in the corner of my mind. i am utterly alone, as the morning unfolds around me, anxious that may you have forgotten me as well at...
...8:15 on Tuesday.
~Brian
11 comments:
that means I am first - if I were on G mans site I would get a prize (not)
thanks Bri fro getting our week started nicely
smiles from the Moon
I enjoyed this. It's sad when someone becomes impossible to remember...they do become like a fog with no discernable features. Great write, Brian.
This is quite beautiful. Thanks for this.
All the best, Boonsong
you take us quite on a journey brian - lull us in with an idyllic morning scenery that changes within the twinkle of an eye into sth soul-disturbing and frightening
but of course gives lots of power to your poem - otherwise it would just have been nice...
Hi Bri...that was superb..i loved the journey..and i think you have set the tone for a perfect week...cheers Pete
Can relate to the "8:15 on Tuesday" moment when you realize you stopped thinking about something/someone and then... boom, like an anvil to the chest & feeling like one's heart is crumbling paper. Outstanding prose piece.
appreciate it all...running low on the poetic juices this weekend...with T going back to work. it is sad when people drift from our minds and trying to get them back...i intentionally left it open, but was thinking of a relative...
great write brian, others forget us too...that is a wake up call....bkm
Lovely. I have had those moments when I realized I could not bring up a mental picture of the face of someone gone. Sad.
I like the phrase "a jumbled pile in the corner of my mind." It reminds me of a favorite line in a Joan Baez song: "in the corner of the dream was the man with the blue guitar."
It is an illusion....like taces of the fire on the stone, it is impossible to forget, only the memory is more gentle, easier to take. Perhaps we enter the celebration of what was, rather than the grief of what isn't.....really a beautiful poem. And that moment is precious. Perhaps it is acceptance, and we realize it is the "past" and no longer the "present"?
That moment of which you speak, may happen over and over...
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