Image from Wikimedia Commons
In this cubicle
I dream of
dates, and years
when I will look back
at this cubicle
with more fondness
than today
The oldest trick
the mind plays
is when memories become
things and shapes
that never were
The joy
in this moment
remains forever
the sadness
well it…
becomes a chuckle
a shake of the head
a lesson learned
a tear stillborn
a song that plays
In your mind
more beautifully
than when it was written
And the faces
remain young
and them bodies
remain inviting
and the sand
which burned
when you walked on it
becomes soft
and gives in to
your steady feet
when you remember
those painful evenings
besides the sea
from years ago
And the drink
In your hand
will feel and taste
so much better
when shadows of friends
from another day
come to your chair
and surround you
and surround you
So, don’t despair
My dear friends
the pain today
will go numb
a sharp cry
will become
a dull thud
which in turn
will become
something softer
Like the fall
Of a glass
broken by
a thick carpet
For time may take
your smile
and your gifts
the very best
from deep inside
But if one
gives it time
then it gently
gives it back
what was stolen
by people
by places
by words
by disease
by punching clocks
and by yourself
Give it time
You should
be ok
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