Disarray of Time
Within my mind are dusty cobwebs
where drafty breathings edge the corners of remembering
as they hold in a picture stilled that looms,
unchanged but not for lack of a broom;
school books, pads and pens, and bookbag piled high,
uniform dress, blouse, and blazer on the bedroom floor,
shoes plopped in the corner still untied behind the door
covers tossed on an unmade bed, pillow puffed against the frame,
a waking dog with ears alert and a wagging tail ingrained;
I can easily dust and sweep the memories stored there.
The dim light of an old candescent lampshade bare,
shadows of my grandmother rocking in her chair.
Four o'clock as the cuckoo bows,
chains straining the weights up and down,
a baloney sandwich, a glass of milk, she sits waiting
at the small kitchen table, her rosary praying.
Bouncing in the door, hurried and ready to play around,
the smile rises on her face as she puts her knitting down
and with a hug and kiss, she takes me in her arms
as I struggle hurriedly pulling away from her charms,
anxious to go out and play
as she asks, what did you learn today?
Sit, eat, tell me of your day
and I rushing through every thought I could say,
full mouth jabbering of this one and that at school,
today, I've learned the golden rule,
family and the love they give
are all you ever really need to live.
I wish I could go back for just a moment in time
and relive those wonderful memories sublime
now gone
and pushed in the corridors of my mind.
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