I have spent the day with ghosts

and the twighlight

with spectres from a time I never wanted to let go.

I remember you all, I have felt like a bookkeeper in my heart

as each memory grows sepia with time

and the sadness I feel at the names of fallen,

hurt and punish my thoughts, deep

unyielding and untimely ends.

 

The pain of memory is such that in the light

offered by the shadow of a single forty watt sun

and the dim illumination of a progressive typewriter, begrudgingly