Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I remember, I remember,
It was in the late September,
...But perhaps it was November?
Each dying ember lay beneath the snow.
No, I do not wish to speak of Poe.
We may have things in common, though, you know?
But the memory I have is of so long ago.
I was a child, perhaps less so than now.
You stood above me, and you kissed my brow.
How that kiss disturbs me now.
But that is not my memory still!
Tonight, I listen only to my will.
And my brain churning, like the blades of a mill.
I was a little girl back then.
I wore my hair in pigtails, when
I fell in love with you. Yes, you, Stan!
You broke my heart - you were a grown man.
You saw me only as a child,
A small thing, that runs around, wild.
Yet my heart melted each time you smiled.
I was very sick that day, yes.
You came over, I believe to play chess;
or so I remember in all of this mess.
At that moment, I considreed myself blessed.
You spoke my name, Stan, so beautifully,
I imagined what ties we could have, lawfully.
You were my prince, then, allegorically.
Life was so easy back then, literally.
I want to go back to those childhood days.
I want to see my life in a kind of haze.
I want life to be one big playful maze.
I want to awaken upon your gaze.
But you lie in your grave, silently.
While gray creeps into my hair violently.
What a life has been wasted on me.