For all you fans of poetry and not so big fans…
Crying About the Gentleness
A day of forgetting
Not anything big,
Just the little stuff.
Like how it storms once a year
This year on the day you were visiting.
And we had to sit inside and open the game closet
To find a jigsaw puzzle.
So goes the gentleness,
Cracked right at the roots and fallen over into the road,
And no cars can pass until it’s been
Sawed and chopped into manageable pieces
And hauled away to a green waste dump.
I forget sometimes how small
The pieces of the day are and
How when I look at them individually
They are always crying because they are alone
Regretting the way everything went
And must now go into a small and dark page
Of a tired accordion file.