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 |    Musings in poem on what inspires, casting words like seed into a world wide wind. |
 the blue markings with coffee clutched -- by the wall by the door a story told with gentle markings each rising to meet another one in blue the other graphite these gentle notations on satin finish darling with age an area no cleaning agent could scrub until the day I give this house up the first day when you stood most obedient the angling stick rested atop your head she reached beneath scraped the wall in permanent blue your backpack idle by the door your brother before three years ascending by graphite gentle dark markings did install now intermingle, reside amid the rising blue such hope sent my eye's gaze reflecting on inscriptions of each year the first days of school imagining your noggin from foggy mornings of yore every marking I spy as high as it would go to the top until the finish until the final date, now I realize the potential of you was in memory not in the future anymore. 10.19.20 41 lines, free verse It's sad (blue) when they grow up and rehashing (markings) in the present, reflecting on past and future knowing charting their height was the only true measurement.. |
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