*Poems that will make you feel sad.
What Was, Before
Woefully, Dilapidated;
Vacantly, Disintegrating;
Reluctantly Deconstructed.
Habitations, crumbling.
Occupying Shadows;
Wistfully, co-mingling.
Past lives, echoing;
Eerily, reverberating.
*Making us, all sad.
So very, very sad.

Moments, For Keeping
Parchment, feathery, soft;
Faintly, whispering;
Speaking, a story.
A before, time,
Of memories;
Placed inside of boxes;
Patient, waiting;
Preserved, in their places.

Crimson Remains
Fading crimson.
Remains;
On a crumbling page.
Messily, memorialized;

Forever Keeping
Creations, proudly recognized;
On fridges, for displaying.
Saved for remembering;
Crumbling and Decaying.

Never, To Be Parted
Precious for saving;
Safeguarded, protected;
Never, to be parted;
Tucked away, snuggly;
Eagerly, waiting;
For some day, to come out.

Finally, set free;
Relieved;
Moments, revived;
Sighing out their particles.

Historical remains;
Floating in sunbeams.
Imprints, Livening.
Memories, reviving.

Moments, Unbegotten
Relics, for remembering;
Put away, forgotten.
Artifacts, in boxes;
Moments, unbegotten.

Ever So, Substantial
Letters of love;
Wispy, frail remains;
Gnarled fingers, holding;
Beholding.
whisperings of Passion;
Ethereal moments of intimacy;
Once, ever so, substantial.
Now, barely, visible.

*Aliveness, lived;
Inside those moments!

Dust Only, Remains
When dust only, remains;
Will I ever have been?
Will this life, have ever, been seen?

Everyday Life
Mixed in with the memories,
Everyday life, trivialities.
Inducing melancholy.
Insignificant moments, in a day;
Kept. Left to decay.

*Joe and I would write love letters to each other when he was working remotely. I still have those letters. The feeling when seeing them, is a type of sadness. We cannot freeze those moments, and physically relive them. We must settle for the memories, which is a poor substitution, for moments that were so beautiful. It’s not fair, is it?

I also have saved a great deal of other memories. Like children’s artwork, report cards, etc.…. In with those memories, there are miscellaneous items. Like bills from twenty years ago, miscellaneous, and meaningless correspondences. I am weirdly, feeling sentimental when I see those things. Things I forgot to throw away, that got mixed in. That stuff existed in our lives, as probably irritations. Just junk mail, that we only glanced at. Or a bill that we just kept for no reason, even after it was paid. It puzzles me, that those insignificant items, evoke in me so much sadness when I look upon them. I think it is because, the trivial day to day stuff, is the stuff that appears to completely disappear. Making it feel sadder when you come across evidence of its existence.