On cold New England mornings,
memories such as these
howl in so suddenly
carried on a breeze.
Lost Days
On cold New England mornings,
memories such as these
howl in so suddenly
carried on a breeze.
Transported in an instant
to another early noon
the feelings of that place return
persistent as a catchy tune.
I can’t recall why we fought.
The reasons didn’t make a mark.
But how dumb we were
for letting our relationship go dark.
Each day that passed without speaking
like a car buried in the snow.
And then as if a blizzard passed
with depths we cannot know.
Consumed by the memory
I felt a violent shake.
My sorrow was asleep before
but now it is awake.
I wish to hibernate no more
eager to take flight.
Time should not be wasted
I know I’ve seen the light.
If you’re willing to hear me
what I’m trying to say is
I’m sorry for lost days
and for pushing you away.