Frozen Limbs|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

free verse

I have my past with me
when I capture images
of the world’s intense
measurements of weather
and all its inconsistencies.

we gather in the small belly
of brooks and creeks, carrying
misdeeds and moments of
judgment with us.
to unveil the depths of
our weakest acts, I snap
the places I’ve been
and the things I see.

everything is a solid reminder
of what has been and of
what’s to come.
I know you remember who I was
but do you know who I am?

the broken twigs of
a lonely tree send spry memories
to my brain and I weep
in the winter wind.

you have found your place
in my heart; etched into my mind,
permanently placed on the
folds of time and I cannot
offer you a pass or release
you from your current

you once had all of me
but now you own a few months
out of the year and I am
battling two different versions
of myself
to get those
months back.

winter came for her
just due and all I have
is a trite recollection of
your lips on mine and
fingers hidden in places
called private
and alcohol
singed split ends that
never found their home
on your pretty little head.

I walk with the wild breeze
and talk to the sleeping sun.
you were my once-upon-a-time
and while I do miss you,
I still have these photographs
to keep me company.

they’re a much better
replacement than that
sly and witty smirk
that never seemed to
leave your unforgettable face.

yes . . . I said it — I miss you,
but let that be our
little secret.
everything else was.

This poem is in response to Wild Flower’s first prompt of the year in Where Wild Things Grow on Medium.

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