by Richard Vince
I remember the garden, and the sunshine,
And the odd collection of letters she had
Somehow found to string together
Around her neck as some sort of
Slightly misleading name tag.
It is one of those things my
Unpredictable memory chose to store:
A study in misplaced regret, and
I remember what she wore
The day she found out that her life
Was about to change forever.
Her empty eyes were a picture of
Resignation tempered with fear
That was almost hidden by
Her exuberant clothing.
She was beautiful, but that
Would never have been enough.
She was quirky, but that would not
Have stopped everything suddenly
Becoming uncomfortably normal.
I expect she has forgotten me;
After all, just as we met and
Exchanged our few inconsequential words,
Everything else in her life became
Infinitely more important.
My memory, though, chose to keep her
Just as she was before everything changed.
So I remember the face I never
Quite saw smile, and her daring outfit,
And those three letters, incorrect
And yet somehow just right.
Author's Note: Very nearly German for cheese. Funny what you remember.
Posted on 01/12/2014
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/13/14 at 02:49 AM|
This is tantalizing - letters we don't get to read, a woman we don't get to know, an unspoken event that takes her elsewhere, and your intriguing memories. Loved those closing lines. Thanks for this.
|Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 01/13/14 at 03:11 PM|
Your characterization exquisite. Indeed, memory is a funny thing.