An ode to memory

to a walk taken perhaps unwittingly on a quiet afternoon

An ode to unknown softness

To the curious eye which sweeps me towards the unknown

To the stranger who became friend

To a day when we should have gone to separate parts of the same city.

To the shadow which chased my camera through steep passages towards a comprehension.

There are thoughts which lead only to the lane of nostalgia, to entertain memory on a quiet afternoon.

A softness brushes past the city where now divided the game has been lost.

To the ruins of purity, to the decline of idealism; she planted the spring bulbs in vague hope.

A quietness that comes in the early hours; thoughts that have no place but rest recycled when appropriate.

A stagnant voice repeats his grievances. Tone denounced informal. Exit stage.

A softness between seas. A hapless feature labelled ‘potential.’

To become? To fall? To wait?

The dandelion carries my wish silently

Towards such departure, becoming soothed by the impression of comfort.

We walk a little faster. Lest we should forget.

lest we should forget

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~ by beatricejarvis on March 27, 2010.

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