new poem by me

Stolen by age

The seeds you threw into

this sandbox

in this place we used to sit

grains of sands covering our hands

as we played as children

your bright eyes gleamed in the sun

with that wonder of just not 

knowing

very much at all

but hoping for such 

bright things.

These seeds eventually wove

their path, a wave motion,

growth breaking through that

dried out older sand,

until,

I stepped out onto the porch to see

in my old empty sandbox,

flowers, bright purple and pink,

standing tall, greeting me,

with a memory of what you were.

So bright to me.

And even with this empty, empty

city. Know I will never forget, the way

those flowers grew.

Even if I only knew you so long 

ago.

Back when we had light in our eyes,

and it wasn’t yet stolen by age and

gray skies and the wearing away

of every day on the subway behind

lonely newspapers. 

In my mind I step outside,

to look at that sandbox. 

Just a reminder of that sweet smell

of those bright flowers, tall strong stalks

of green, was enough to make me feel

that sunshine in my eyes.

They lit up again.

Even though I’ll never see you again,

thank you, old friend.