Rememberies

he wore roach-stompin' cowboy boots

black and patched in skins,

out of fashion more than in,

neither

his concern,

but sometimes…

mine.

skin sandpaper

in shadows after five,

and

grizzly-sized hugs

still felt

in empty places.

he loved mirrors, and until twilight,

they loved him back.

his voice was gravel and boss

and "I'm sorry" was rare

but "I love you" was often

which is better, anyway,

i think.

haunted by

the unspoken,

weighted and broken

but stubborn

or weary

or proud…

the way of many

but not mine.

i hope.

i pray.

sharing

blood

and legacy

sometimes

i miss him more than others.

today.

10 Comments

Jeni on at

Beautiful.

Craig on at

I want to take guesses. But I won’t. Doesn’t feel right. That is a braided string of words cascading down the page. It rolled and swayed like notes on a musical score. I learn so much from reading you. I am so seriously – grateful for you.
This will ring in my ears all day – what did you call it – an ear worm – i forget sometimes all the words I learn from you – This is poetry I can only dream of writing:
haunted by
the unspoken,
weighted and broken
but stubborn
or weary
or proud…
Thank you Robin – I know I keep saying that – but thank you.
and I’m still smiling from the Eeyore eyes haiku this morning.