Last night we had dinner with our good friends Susan and Erik. Our evening concluded with an enthusiastic (read: English-nerd) discussion of favorite poets, poems, and author readings, and transitioned into the reading aloud of several of these poems, in addition to the brilliant works of Jack Handey. An evening well spent.
I used to exchange poems with a couple friends on Fridays--a tradition that I adored. I thought I would bring it back today.
the problem with memories
is that you cannot try to remember.
you have to wait for a memory to ripen,
for the magnolia to blossom in springtime,
for the pears to fall from the trees.
when it is winter, you want hope.
you want everything warm all at once,
and everything dead alive.
you try to remember everything and you see nothing.
what shirt was she wearing?
what color was her hair?
one day you come home and the magnolia is in bloom.
she flew the kite as high as it would go.
we carried beach towels around our necks.
she had a tattoo on her foot.
copyright 2009. brooke freed