Old stories, in time

[chelidon]

Old stories, in time

I went searching for a dear old friend,
a favorite book I had read long ago
I could remember exactly what it looked like,
the color and text on the spine, the marks of wear, dog ears,
where it sits on the shelf among its neighbors
But now I realize, that was another shelf,
in another house, in another time
A house I once knew as well as I know myself,
filled with life and laughter
I live in another house now,
and much time has passed.
But all that was, still is,
and in some way, somehow,
that dear book of mine
on its shelf of long ago
and all of the familiar stories it contains
is still sitting there, just as it was
waiting to be picked up and read.

Comments

[elnigma.livejournal.com]

Nice! ^_^
This was in breathe_poetry about a month back
Paper Year
by Fatima Lim-Wilson

Let us celebrate with our household gods.
Call in the family ghosts who have never left.
They glue hurled vases, hum ancient tunes
To muffle our shouts. Tonight, let us
Use our wedding gifts, all silver and outsized.
We dance, fencing with our elbows, boasting
Of how our feet never leave the ground.
We toast to the absence of friends, severed
By our shared disdain. Who could have
Ever liked us? Smoke rises, ashes
Shifting into flowershapes. The very
Ghosts shiver in our glacial drift.
We try to keep warm, throwing
Into the fire the volumes read
Between our spoken lines and the blueprints
For bridges we built, separately,
As we talked in our sleep.