Wednesday, October 05, 2005,10:12 PM
Past and Present
She sinks into the recliner.
The distant thunder of children
Puts her to sleep.

Having too much on his mind
From drowning in his own youth,
He doesn't hear them.

Is there a warehouse, he wonders,
Where my memories are kept?
If so, can I put mine away?

One of his daughters runs in,
Complaining about her brother,
So he nods to her and sends her back.

She wakes up and asks him
What was going on.
Nothing, he says, and laughs to himself.

The future, he decides, is more important.
Then he pulls himself from the couch
To pick out some clothes for tomorrow.
posted by J. Andrew Lockhart
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