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Poem

The Forgotten holidays

Written or in this case typed…
correctly; “The” as it was at the beginning correct. 
“Forgotten” as it was naming not the action but the lost.
(holidays) No capital as they are thought to be small, 
and unimportant by most everyone, 
except those that remember. 
The truth is we are never sure
who they may be, 
until they are; us. 

My good friend died last year. 
Cancer ate her up. 
I missed her birthday, 
Valentines cookies, 
April songs, May flowers, 
Summer showers, birds…
and laughter…
Tea and cakes, 
under the big tree, in the back. 
Memorial day for the brave, 
Labor for the strong, 
The 4th, so spectacular, 
to light the sky. 
She would have loved the show, 
I did, but less so without her. 

Her anniversary, with him. 
She was in love. 
Now he is lost. 

What happens when no one remembers, 
the days that never get to happen, 
gone from us, not in our reach at all. 
The rest we rearrange, 
our schedule to correct the path, 
for our new, if unwontedly changed…
Life.

Cards with only one name, 
one sender… or worse, 
one addressee.

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