I gathered words over time
In a dresser divided
Verbs, pronouns,
Adjectives, nouns
Each in their own separate drawer.

Words that I use all the time
Stay near the top
Of the drawer that
They each belong in

Other words like “quashing”
And “protoplasm” stay near
The bottom and never get used

Until just now when I grabbed them
For this poem.

When talking about the past
We often forget about the pain
The worst of days
The sickest of days
The days when we felt like we were at the bottom
Looking only up for any kind of help

History is doomed to repeat itself
But all we can think about,
Even when I think about those pain filled days
Is how they were moments of hurt
Like punches to the midsection
Not knocking you out
But taking your breath
Away

Taking that part
Of the memory
That helps one forget
Darkest moments of
Broken hearts
Broken bones
Broken skin
Broken soul

And we sit and think
About those better days
When the sun shone
And a gentle summer breeze
Rolls warm air
Over closed eyes
And you dream
About the best moments of your life
When your heart wasn't broken

My heart dips
When I remember where we are

These moments of forget
Watching a favorite old movie
And I’m carried back to 1988
And John Cusack holding up his radio
My heart dips when the credits roll
And I remember where we are

These moments of forget
Working on the lawn
And watering grass seed that I planted
Last October, then I remember
And my heart dips
When I think about how I didn’t know
Where we’d be

These moments of forget
When I close my eyes at night
And I drift into a land of total escape
Where I can visit favorite places
And see old friends and family
Then my heart dips
When I wake up and I remember
Where we are.

I had it...
It was right there
In my hands
But then the future
Took it and made it the past
That moment of present was gone
From me now.

This happened
Again
Again
Again
Again

Why didn’t I see it coming?

I didn’t cherish what I had
In those moments now gone
I didn’t hug those special to me
My mom
My dad
My grandmas
My grandpas

I took for granted those
Conversations we had
The mundane talks about this or that
I would love to have another chat
Another chance to revisit the way
I impatiently said that I had to go...
I doubt I had to go

The only thing I had to get to was
The future and regret
For those lost moments.

Sit and listen
To the clock
The ticking
The tocking

Furnace fan
Droning on
In chorus
To the percussion of

The ticking
The tocking
Snapping off a beat
And fan’s low hum

A bird outside
Throws in a solo
A robin calling
For a mate

While I lay on my couch
And start to dream
About summer and
Not being told to stay inside

The ticking
The tocking
Time passing by the whole world
As we wait for the magical day

When the curve is flattened
And we’ve made it through
The ticking
The tocking

I’m the wind across the prairie
On a warming March afternoon
I’m the sun that melts
The snow and warms the
Frozen dirt into a thin
Slippery layer of mud

I’m the dancing of leaves
Left over from autumn
Released from the drift now gone
Take me into your lungs
I’m spring... And here
To shake off your winter blues.

End of vacation
Say goodbye to the lake
Under August sun
And August trees
And August sky
Last waves lapping
On the rough rip rap rocks

Station wagon loaded and running
Trailered boat tagging along
Motor lifted and tilted
Asleep until next summer

A holler from brother
"Time to go!"
One last look out at the
plane of blue shining and winking
Then down to my knees
And take a scoop

Oh, if I can only carry
This water home
Start my own lake
My vacation would never end...
This my foolish dream

By the time I got
To my awaiting seat
I only had
A damp hand
But memories that still
Fill the lake in my heart.