Photography > Poetry

-Blue windbreaker embrace in the graveyard

Holding tight by the headstone but it's so hard
Bouquet of memories
Over a shoulder blade
Branches woven In tears.

The pain cuts deep but you are not too far from the living I fear.

As death do us part is spoken
So much can be taken or given away gravely
Without syncopation or
Subtle ness.

But not do we part like waves
On strands harshly?

Or that of a mother to her child grasping
Or a father to his son playing ball

Or the grandmother to her brother
Laughing all the while

When the vintage automobile
Reflects in chrome
A song close to home
Rolling by.

We only bother to care when it is all snatched away by the specter

When the husk shrivels or the blade of grass burns
The seed splits
And the leaves crumble.

Learn do we?

To see not the setting sun
Radiant giant creating a horizon of
Infinite hearts full and drunk on beauty

And the letters of lost love are yellowed
Upon the blankets
Keepsakes of forgetfulness.

The quilted memory with squares
Containing rotting fruit and perfect
Pink flesh
Tender and fallible yet
Resilient to the touch.

This scene is the farewell

To time- the banners unfolding
The given away antique clocks
With springs and weights
And pieces without further
Function in

ill repair

Despair lingers awhile and the porch swing moves as it once did
With the seated body gazing upon the dimly lit
night street

The silence is overwhelming

Somewhere between the tunnel hollow
And the heavenly hoist singing
In a complete dark and cavernous


Francis A Willey
March 28 2015

Blue windbreaker in the graveyard