In Memory of Marcel Proust

In Search Of Lost Time

possibilities,
potential passing by opportunities
lost to a contrary current
washing away a sense of destiny,
leaving only the silt of nostalgia

contemplating the days left behind
like debris in the wake of a flood

calculating the height from a distance of
an ever-rising watermark of years

counting the sandbagged attempts to slow
the tempest fugit of slipstream hours

for purposes uncertain
dragging a swollen river
of swift moving memories
in search of lost time:

the scent of an orange being peeled with a pocket knife

the feel of a new five dollar bill found inside an old birthday card

the splinter breaking through skin in a fall down wooden stairs

the tongue across a gumline where a tooth once rooted

the smolder of chimney smoke meeting falling snow

a flock of blackbirds alighting on a freshly harvested cornfield

a helium balloon slipping away from a little boy's hand

the weight of a sleeping child carried inside from a car

counting stars above the grand canyon

a pair of new boots bought in dallas, texas

pulled over for speeding in mexico

writing poems on maps by dashboard light

the fear of loneliness

the strength discovered while alone

the lies told to survive

the truth that lies in survival

the small black and white image of a life not yet lived

watching the river flow, by and by,
carrying away the remembrance of things past