I can't believe it's been a year since I wrote this poem, but some things never change.
Today is one of those days, where the paper gets so thin that you can read some of the pages beneath it.
I originally submitted this poem to AbcTales.com last April. It was "Cherry Picked" by the editors. I have some more poems and stories over there, if you're interested.
Some days touch
Many others, all at once
piled on top of one another
a tangled ball of string.
This is one of those days.
Thoughts bob up
from beneath memory's ocean
and suddenly I'm drowning
in a hundred different days
going back thirty plus years
It's not all bad.
Some are good, some are sad,
Some make me smile
(nearly Easter twenty four years ago
aching with the flu, watching tiny dots out my bedroom window,
walking over Cave Hill, knowing those are my classmates
wondering which small dot is her.)
Then it's over, and the thin leaves
of the book of my days dries out
and I can't read through
to the other pages any more.
Not all at once
Just in the usual way, one word at a time.
(c) Stephen Herron 2008.