When we left
time folded up the town,
stored it away
in some dusty drawer.
I never doubted
the population logged off
with a sigh of relief
they no longer
had to keep up the pretense.
An artist
at an easel had painted
cloud-streaked sky,
quaint shops,
rural landscapes.
Only our stepping
through the canvas
gave the image
breath.
It was a brief reality.
Today I crossed the street,
peered at window displays that seemed
unchanged.
I drove the short three miles
to pasturelands where cows
moved slow motion
across sweet grass.
I couldn’t believe
a world went on without us--
without you beside me
studying a road map,
calling out the names
of towns like this
with histories
that only had a present life
as long as we were there.
1 comment:
funny how we only live in the present day and tense sometimes, forgetting who and what came before us and who and what will carry on after we are gone. I've been struggling with this a lot lately- missing my grandmother who died in 1990 prematurely and craving the wisdom I know she would be able to impart on me if she were here today. But, I realize I AM her.. her blood runs through my veins and will continue on through my children and their children.
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