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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