sepia paintings of days long since gone
the rattle of a shopping cart at two am
the sounds of leaves stirred by wind in the
golden glow of streetlight
the close smell of the car my mother drove
the oil and vegetables
perfume and cigarettes

the summer sunlight shattered to
pinpoints on the lakes water
its warm liquid spills slowly over the toes
of laughing children eating sandwiches

lantern held up in the deep wood
the path dispersed in the shadows dancing
each gravel stone that scatters underfoot
each windswept hour spent retracing our lives
passed with incredible clarity

prison of memory
rattle the cage seeking attention of the jailer
plunder what moments he gives
what crumbs fall from his full table
he chews loudly at the meat of your mind
clean shaven his robust frame stuffed into the tight uniform
his keys replay the songs of freedom to the ear
his meaty fist inked with brutality
there is no soul in his gaze

remember me
so that i can say that i left some mark on this world
remember our laughter that sang out into summer night
our hands entwined in the warmth of our hearts
so that what i leave behind is true to my heart

the dry lips of spoken poems
leave this dreamer
with a heart full of words