Curious, sometimes
I go walking back
through old photographs
eyeing the dusk snow
with fresh feeling
Reimagining that old way of things
to get lost…
A teenage heart pumped through
though I was older
A teenage longing ran right through me
though I should have known better
I find nothing in the snow
always the same
I find nothing I didn’t know
and it’s winter there forever…
Seeing those photographs
sometimes, I wonder
seeing those photographs now
I feel a little pity
Those old stars, that ancient map
was it leading me here all along
What was with those long dark nights
endlessly reflecting
You can’t live inside a photograph
no matter how it pulls at your heart
yet I dive, sometimes I dive, backwards
and it’s winter there forever…
[2016]
Thanks for reading this old poem.
The Lighthouse 
Ohh love this one.
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Oh thank you! That’s really good to hear. I feel it’s a bit ragged and undisciplined but it manages to say what I wanted… 🙂 Thanks for reading.
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I always find it interesting when the writer (often myself included) doesn’t care for a piece, or feels it’s not quite right and yet the reader loves it. This is why I love art. It’s so subjective.
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