Absent of now
My mind freely
Wanders memories hallways
Like a graduate
Returning to school
Peering through windowed
Doors and remembering
This and that
Removed by time
And fresh perspective
Like a cold
Kills the aroma
So do memories
Merely hint passions
Leaving you famished
Sitting alone and
Listening to music
When one of
Our songs plays
And from deep
In my stomach
The sobs bubble
To the surface
Because I know
You don’t remember
These our songs
Because I fear
By now you
Barely remember me
This sky is
One large lounging
Gray tabby sitting
On the Appalachian
Mountains windowsill absorbing
All the sun
Preventing any of
It to warm
Any of us
Shoo cat shoo
Bring us that
Cold winter sunshine
Days are shorter
Like furloughs during
The war time
Winter trees stand
Naked outside my
Window charcoal fingers
Playing puppet shadows
Against cold gray
December skies that
Hover like parents
Over home work
Never really moving
Nary a breeze
All is still
But me seeing
And you breathing
Here beside me
Living life out
Here on the
Skinny branches is
Reserved for only
Three types of
People those about
To take flight
Those willing to
Fall and those
Whose songs are
The sweetest and
And heard teetering
The rest huddle
In their nests
Close to home
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 