The Last Things I'll Remember

 

The small cottage on Christleton Avenue

in the '50's: peonies, pinks, sweet pea, their scent

mingling on the breeze; me drifting

in the hammock - my boat of dreams -

under the weeping willow.

The little house on Ethel Street,

full of leggy, laughing children,

who disco-danced during sleepover evenings

for my weekend entertainment; the garden

out back, the swish-swish-swish of the sprinkler

in the early morning, before the children woke.

The coffeehouse, full of stained glass, music

and hanging plants, where people believed in me

till I could believe in myself - where my heart melted,

growing ten sizes, big enough

to make a mighty leap:

to Tofino, place of my dreams: wild waves,

old growth forests, eagles and herons

and wolves padding softly, one of whom

came to stay.

Then away, to my little green trailer

out Beaver Creek, Pup's kingdom,

after we lost our heart place by the sea.

And oh, Pup! I will remember most of all -

his wild wild ways, his loud loud bark,

his knowing eyes, true mate of my wilderness soul.
The one I hope will greet me
when I reach the spirit world.

And the very last thing of all: one last look

at the blue sky, companion of all my days,

always changing, ever-beautiful,

that kept me forever Looking Up.

* Title and inspiration taken from Joyce Sutphen's wonderful poem of the same title.

for my prompt at What's Going On : The Last Things I'll Remember