Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “memory”

What it’s For

When it’s dark I can believe
that there are still leaves on the trees
and blossoms bloom outside my door.
That’s what imagination’s for.

And when I close my eyes and see
my long lost friends and family
I’m not so lonely anymore.
That’s what memory is for.

And when the world looks far too grim
I load my paintbrush to the brim
and paint a new world to explore.
That’s what inspiration’s for.

I hereby invoke the power of my poetic license to absolve me of the guilt in ending sentences prepositions with.

Chasing the Sunrise

I chased a sunrise this morning
I almost caught it
on film
the reds
went pink
and the oranges lost their glow
before I could click the button and I’ll
have to just remember it
my eyes a truer lens
my memory a faster shutter
my heart a more vivid palette for the
sunrise I chased this morning.



Sweet Clover Year

“It’s a sweet clover year” he said
and I thought of you again
in that other sweet clover year when you came to visit.
My best friend thirty years and three thousand miles ago.
A smile, a hug, and the years dropped away
and we walked by the creek looking for fossils.

The sweet clover was in bloom
and you stroked the mustard yellow blossoms,
collected some to dry,
said they were good for something or other,
some sort of homeopathic remedy.
And then you were gone.

And the years flowed by
but the sweet clover never seemed to bloom so profusely.
Never sent its scent into my open window.
I called, sent a letter, but somehow
I lost you again.

Then one day I typed your name into a search engine
and there you were,
smiling from your obituary page.
Seems you died of cancer not long after our visit.
Did you know?
I think you did.
Thank you for the moments you shared.
It’s a sweet clover year again
and I think of you.

One Day

One day I will be able to remember you
without crying.

One day I will be able to sing
the song I wrote for you
without my voice quavering,
and leaf through photo albums
without my hand shaking.
One day I will be able to speak your name
without that sharp pain in my heart,
and wear your locket
without feeling its weight.
One day your memory will find its fulcrum in my heart.
One day only love will remain.
Not today, but soon.



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