memory

the green, the blue, and the grey,
all well-lit,
as I am astray,
akimbo,
when the cloudburst arrives,
considering
how many lives
it has taken me
to find You again;
this time of broken glass,
shards piercing
the bubbles of time passed,
and once again,
I remember now as then,
I am better than I was,
since I have loved You
when the Earth was young,
and when it explodes,
and there is nothing left but
memory.



November 1, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.