zpotter

Fall

stepping out
into the fading light
of a hard wrought day,
I stand with my feet
in the grass,

the cool blades
comfort my soul,
Fall is coming

Nostalgia

our histories
lose the complexity
of their time
when viewed
through the prism
of nostalgic memory

Racing

the end is out there
in the distance,

the finish line
unmarked,

no clock counts down
the seconds that remain,

no checkered flag
ready to be waved,

there is no tape
to break through;

others' races have been run
ours continues on,

carry their memory,
keep going,
keep living