In the beginning—time still untarnished
by tongues of friends telling tales
of unrequited passion and by knowledge
yet to be understood—pockets and purses
held the roots of recollection:
tickets torn to their stubs, clovers plucked
for their leaves of luck, valentines pasted
with tinseled love, prized dance cards,
dutifully, if not lovingly, signed by Curt,
by Joe and Jay, also by John,
catch of the class, and by Richard,
who wasn’t, but with whom I danced.
Frayed now, and fragmented, frosted
by the season of winter, still these scraps
survive, bones of yesterday.
Adding to them, I haul out my notebook,
my pad of yellow stickies, indelible marker,
preserving names of people just met,
conversations heard, things I must do,
before I forget.
* * *
Poem and photo by Mary O’Connor © 2014
Beautiful and so relevant! One of your best.
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Thanks!
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Today’s post made me laugh, Mary! I have been dutifully dusting off old bones in the name of purging junk, but find the memories suck me in & little progress is made!
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I know what you mean…they’re hard to let go. But than again, maybe they (at least some of them!) are important to keep!
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I laughed out loud when you named the male names. This is so cute and adorable. I just loved it, Mary. So YOU! Thank you for writing this and posting it. (((HUGS))) Amy
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So glad you enjoyed it! (((HUGS))) back to you!
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Amazing photo and pleased to be back. Going to Spain in next few days!
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So good to hear from you! Thanks, for this and for so many others that I see you have “liked”! Have a wonderful time in Spain…a place I haven’t been to, but would love to visit someday!
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