now the memories
Snatches of bright, clear light and holiday colors
lost in the fog
The promises sound evil and hollow, the songs like moans of pain
Open mouthed laughter is replaced by tremulous smiles
Hands, once pressed hard together, and locked with interlaced fingers,
as the rope uncoils,
and our ships sail out across the
of a last and longing look at fading love,
at the flickering mirage
of you and me,
by the blizzard of
that arrived so suddenly.
Whether or not we’d weather it was the question.
And in the calming wake of
lies the answer,
in the depths and
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.