We get a hint of memory at the oddest hour and wonder again why we moved on from the one.
Her essence on brilliant blouse --
a fragrance, vanilla and lavender,
cannot ply a mysterious heart sealed,
or foggy memory.
A mind's violins attuning; time to play
but, cannot find descriptive words.
Move on from love so obstinate,
took beauty I made, given so freely?
Thoughts of what 'road taken' next,
waiting too long at a light turned green.
Won't some soul show the way,
move on from this obsolete byway?
Piano keys, fingering in dark venue
miles and miles from safety of home;
eyes analyze my hesitant wandering.
Smoke, tears, shadowed -- seeking
another, seemingly, beautiful heart.
these visions of someone new,
anyone with arms, same smoldering
who knows how hard dreams break.
Can you come out and play with this boy?
Or, does your mother make you stay,
cut your hair, change into modest clothes?
Until that day they call me up and away,
I'll remember too late why I'm at a loss: the
Not having told you I loved you, my sin --
cared more for dreams than cared for myself.
Incomplete until purpose lights the way.
Unfinished, because they call me to play.