Day Three.
she never knew what her summersong sounded like
until the drifting harmonies
where swept away with the fallen leaves
like old headlines faded
on newspapers smeared by autumn rain
that unlike spring
brought a downpour with no pretense for blossoms
Today is an auspicious day in our history. The tenth anniversary of 9/11 and the fall of the Twin Towers. A small commemoration on my part, a picture of remembrance, a man and his paper reading about the day that for many, changed their lives. Here is a moment for all of you affected by this tragedy. We will always remember you and the sacrifice you made for us.
Write in Pen
He says blandly
I look up surprised
What?
Always use a pen
Pencils are worthless
He blows out smoke
From a drooping mouth
Pulled down by age
If you want your work
To be serious
Write in pen
All else will be forgotten
If it can be erased,
It will be erased.
I look at the old pencil
Sitting in my hands
It had grown small
And grungy
From repeated and relentless use
But I always write in pencil
I say as I watch
His indifference
Smirking at me
Over the top
Of a wilted old newspaper
He shrugs
Then you will be forgotten
That was all he said
As he folded his paper
Dropped his cigarette
Snuffing it out
With the toe
Of his fancy shoes
I told myself to forget him
His words meant nothing
Just smoke and mirrors
From a strange old man
Yet here I am writing in pen
