四.

Memories of My Life

Within the pixie drops of
pink-pressed, lemon-dusted
sea-sparkled, wave-resounding
translucent sheets of
memory...

A single song whispering its
barely audible yet undeniable
tear-laden
story

and flippantly tossing a head of
sun-gold locks and
diverting, spring-green eyes,
sponged with tears at bay,
as if to bury the
sorrow --
and leave the song playing
and re-playing on a broken record in
vast silence and
solitude.

Heart bursting,
adrenaline rushing, lips quivering, eyes widening,
hands pressed stubbornly against ear drums that just won't stop
listening.

A cold breeze in an enclosed room
with splintering heat
seeping through thick, unforgiving walls,
sweeping at an
open diary...
secrets spilling
from a hole you call your
heart.

And it simply continues
breezing through each and every
page, shrieking your
lifestory -
words unspoken, tears unshed -
to the ears of
too many.

Then
It stops.


The music dies in a wistful
good-bye,
the pages shed like
autumn's browning leaves.
Heavy heart, wearily
taping and tending its wounds,
tensely threading itself back in a
tightly-woven basket.

But the song, while muted,
resonates in repeat
and the basket that is thrown in the wild whirlwind of
pink-pressed, lemon-dusted
sea-sparkled, wave-resounding
memory...

Allows the crashing waves
to again swim through its cracks
and sting its wounds.