Memory

The past is housed in dirty bars

where the lighting moves quickly to night,

after a day of cigarettes and pool

with a great friend’s sure smile and warmth.

The past is housed in deep woods

where the paths move slowly to light,

after a day of ancient silence walking

by a father’s hand.

The past is housed in wild cars

where the road glides quickly through the light,

after a day of miles and beer

with great friends’ sure smiles and crazed passions.

The past is housed in fine waters

where the wide light shines to deep,

after a day of surf crashing

on a body’s willing strength.

The past is housed in dusty plazas

where the California light moves by heat,

after a day of slow wandering and water

with sweet family noise and wonder.

The past is housed in chapels

where the real light moves in filtered to form,

after a day of wine and wafer ceremony

with an ancestor’s old curse.

By Jonathan Dyer

From: United States

Website: https://jonathandyerauthor.com/

Instagram: nicktemplefiles

Twitter: J_P_Dyer

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