In my every word,
when walking down my steps, opening the door,
a glance outside,
I see a scant breath of snow
covering the road,
it’ll all be gone by noon,
but in that moment
I think of you,
and I try to imagine what your similar moment might be.
I resign myself to dreams,
the surreal walk in a familiar park,
holding your hand
watching your eyes glaze, ahead
showing me a favorite wooden walkway
into a lush valley
rising above again,
the wood pieces aged,
adds to the nostalgic beauty in the moment,
a time I’m standing near, no with you.
I no longer know where I am
good days and bad,
today is one of those horrific ideals,
where there seems little to be happy about.
I don’t wish to bother anyone
with trivial notions that everyone has been asked to
endure, survive, accept, adjust, change, isolate.
I sometimes wish I didn’t have to completely forget who I am
in your eyes alone I used to be someone whom I can no longer be.
© Scott F Savage 12/2020