Memories
My wife created a collage
More than thirty-one years ago
With colored photographs of me
In different running poses.
It still hangs from the wall above
My cluttered oaken desk, staring
Down at a metamorphic man
Unrecognized from the captured
Faded phantoms frozen in time.
It’s no wonder why memories
Remain so near and dear to us.
Their existential, uniqueness
Remain unchanged throughout time
Whereas, all else dies a slow death.
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