The oddest things turn up when you clean up documents you haven't seen in many years. My recent digital spring-cleaning lead me to a couple of notes I had written in early 2003. I could vaguely remember the context of both but the exact emotions or my frame of mind at the time of writing are lost now.
#1
The trees are shrugging of the rain making
a tiny shower on me – a woman walks her two
dogs ten paces ahead of me – she turns back
and smiles “Good Morning” – her face has aged
very well – I glance at my watch – I have five minutes
to reach the bus stop – I break into a sprint.
A young woman is waiting for the same bus – she is
picturesque – in Prada sunglasses and jet black hair.
I tell myself those who have known no great pain
will not know of a great passion either – I may
look like a walking wreck, but I have been to the
other side – twice and lived to tell about it.
#2
I have been visited, the curves and crevices of me
explored – I am Newfoundland no more or can
ever again be. No Marco Polo will set sight of me
and break into ecstasy – ‘Land Ahoy !’ there are
signs of inhabitance and abandonment – just like
any old land. But he who was here first is a
complete stranger, I know as little his face or heart
as I do the others that did not come first
There are no sweet secrets in my eyes – in the acres
of me is the quiet wilderness of things lost forever.
#1
The trees are shrugging of the rain making
a tiny shower on me – a woman walks her two
dogs ten paces ahead of me – she turns back
and smiles “Good Morning” – her face has aged
very well – I glance at my watch – I have five minutes
to reach the bus stop – I break into a sprint.
A young woman is waiting for the same bus – she is
picturesque – in Prada sunglasses and jet black hair.
I tell myself those who have known no great pain
will not know of a great passion either – I may
look like a walking wreck, but I have been to the
other side – twice and lived to tell about it.
#2
I have been visited, the curves and crevices of me
explored – I am Newfoundland no more or can
ever again be. No Marco Polo will set sight of me
and break into ecstasy – ‘Land Ahoy !’ there are
signs of inhabitance and abandonment – just like
any old land. But he who was here first is a
complete stranger, I know as little his face or heart
as I do the others that did not come first
There are no sweet secrets in my eyes – in the acres
of me is the quiet wilderness of things lost forever.
Comments
The best line in this post is: those who have known no great pain
will not know of a great passion either!
of me is the quiet wilderness of things lost forever.
When the eyes say it all...the way you knit your words into phrases..is so nice
Wildflower - Thanks for stopping by and for your kind words on my writing.