Wahoo, I made it. I may not have written every day, and many of the ‘poem’s I posted aren’t really poems. But some will be! I will take time to assess this week. In the meantime, the final poem for the month.
I remember the library’s small square windows,
they defined the building from the outside
yet went unnoticed amongst the glorious rows of books.
I remember the day I collected more blackberries
then I could eat, how I painted with them,
added them to Vaseline to make messy lipgloss.
I remember how lonely I was each time we moved
how grateful I was for my brother.
I remember how much the boy who teased me
each day frightened me, how I thought he could
see everything I did, at home.
I remember how many days
my friends and I danced to Duran Duran.
I remember the night I met my husband
how he sat, laughing on a step.
Now we have a house together,
and each room holds books. Each day finds us
sitting together and sharing foods
new and old. Comfortable, at times, spicy.
There are moments of loneliness, of intense
longing, still. But different now, I have to admit that.
Each day a building block for another memory.
The neighbor’s tree broke in half in the hurricane
and now we have sunlight in our once dim room.
Each of us has music we love, and often a song
will stop a conversation as we all start to sing.
Someday, I will ask you, do you remember the year
the sun came in each night as we had dinner? Yes.
That was the year our daughter started to talk,
and we sat, laughing, and eating, and making
ridiculous faces. Yes, and our skin, washed golden.