The little donkey:

proudly young eyes on high legs.


Once, I was like that.

Dripping shirts, back then,

on the lines in the attic --


and bits of your face.

Joy, it caught me content,
Hopping, smiling.
Overflowing emotion,
Moved,
Restless,
Thoughtful,
Full,
Happy,
Truly, if only for a moment.
I wish it could last,
And perpetuate itself
Consistently,
Continuously.
But, content with the present,
I hold, marked consistently,
A memory present in the future,
A certain present.

Time’s diminishments adds its own beauty
in gratitude for moments that are not ours:

the child tiptoes into the mother’s bedroom
and silently witnesses her comb her hair,

later listens to her snore, transferring to
them the transient lyrics of the song of life-

the lines that survive  the well of nights,
the rose thorns to bloom in their mouths

until it’s stamped in their bodies—
this trapped time to live all over again.

Deck of cards,
Pictured scenes,
Pastel backs.

Just have to remember,
In order to play memory,
But no one will remember me.

MON

So, within the crowds of people and chaos,
It was your face that I vaguely remember.
I think it was in Winter or around December,
If I Recollect correctly, it was probably November.

You were walking through the Crowds, so tall and so lean,
A crafted work of art, so unreal as it might seem.
It was so noisy, that I was lost in my own thoughts.
The expression on your face, was worried and distraught.

I remember it like it was just yesterday
I was wondering if your are Okay?
you seemed to be troubled by something
you just went on your Merry Way!!

To this Day I remember,
how you made an expression on me.
I just wished I could have known what was wrong
You are nothing but a Faded memory


B.R.
Date: Unknown