Author Information
The Bureau
I saw his R&B rhythm
climb the stairs,
stirring the attic air of yesteryear,
and finds me
sitting on the old sofa
watching dust particles
move frantically in the sunlight.
In between the notes,
I can still feel the way
you would playfully
muss my hair.
^^^
Just behind boxes of books
and records - old 78's and 45's-
bought when I was just a kid,
stood, dust covered,
but still proud,
our 6 drawer bureau.
The one we found at the curb
while trash picking
and made its way
into our first apartment.
As the music turned to
“Nights In White Satin”,
by the Moody Blues,
I wondered if the poem-
it was the first
I ever wrote you-
could still be seen
on the back wall of the top drawer.
^^^
I wrote it there
because you said it would be
your special, secret drawer.
The place where you would keep
the things that meant the most to you.
And I, in a typical man-ish way,
had to be included
in your secret place.
^^^
Its’s ironic how dust particles
swirling in the music of long ago,
and breathed in by a wondering mind,
awakens or perhaps more real,
plucks the cobwebs found there,
so that memories vibrate
and taunt.
^^^
About a week after we split,
I found the bureau
standing on the street corner
once again;
like me,
put out to trash.
I brought it home
and some years later,
older, and battered
from moves too many,
found its way into the attic.
^^^
I remember well the day
I lugged it
up the attic steps.
In the dim light,
those long years ago,
I looked into your secret drawer.
The poem was still there-
“I am incomplete
without you,
come,
together let’s make
the universe sing anew.”-
sitting inside a
carved shaped heart.
^^^
I saw it then,
somewhat more faded,
your reply.
Inside a carved tear drop you said;
“Red, why?
Why did you break my heart?
You promised you would always,
always write me poetry”
^^^
Strange, as I read
in the attic’s
dim and shadowy light,
the music changed to Dr. John’s
“Black Nights”
Forever Inscribed
A mellowed emotional series associated with music lyrics and sounds over the years. Fading, still searing though covered in cobwebs - What do you do with a memory? ~~Lady A.
memories..
Lady A, only thing you can do with a memory.. you write about it; keep it alive with found words and dust particles and weave them into the cobwebs.... Thank you for your kind comment.