old words

Sometimes I come across lines I've written in the past and they surprise me. I vaguely recall writing them and that's what astonishes me. How could I forget words I strung together?

As I read through some old ideas of mine yesterday, I came across the following. I wrote it 7 November 2008. And I'll leave it without a title for now.


Sketch of a bird.
Snatch of conversation.
A broken button.

You turn the pages.

Pencil captured the bird.
Mind remembered words.
Tape holds down the pieces.

The feathers remind you of a rainy morning.
Clouds hindered the sun as you looked out the window.
You held your cup of tea and upped Neil Young’s volume.

The assumed dialogue becomes a soliloquy.
A man and his dementia battle it out.
One voice. Two tones.

The three uneven pieces beg you to finger their crags.
One hole remains intact.
Makes you ponder your own heart’s shape.