life

remembering the future

blouse_web

i’ve lost a poem.

this, i suppose, is the danger of composing most works online and then transferring them to computer file or paper later.

it feels like having lost a friend or a treasured memory.

actually, i wonder if i deleted it in a moment of panic. it described something i’d seen quite vividly in my mind’s eye — a split second of the future i have yet to live.

there was something about mornings … something about eyes … in that quiet moment of crisp linen. something about light, and a sleep-rumpled, hazy face next to mine on the pillow.

i am not a “morning person,” but i love the idea of mornings. i love the way the cold, clear light pours through the windows and the way the spring (or summer or autumn) breezes play with the curtains. i love the stillness of the house before it wakens and the small friendly sounds like the wind in the trees or the ticking of the clock that provide the only soundtrack for that hour of the day.

i have written so much abysmal stuff in my 8+ years of being a “poet.” this poem, my memory told me, actually had some good in it.

this is the odd part about my memories of the future. the atmosphere that reminds me of the youth hostel we stayed at in former east germany … that reminds me of the 1970s (in which i never lived, but about which my parents have numerous stories) … maybe there are plants and simplicity (and a big low window) around that bend in the road i can’t see past yet.

or maybe it was someone else’s future i was seeing.

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