the smokey past

the past

It creeps into the cracks of me...When I least expect it. I sigh and open the door to you. I cry over the past. It has an ability to seep into my space. I try with grace to let it in.

I let the past in because "she" (the past) has taught me soooo much.
She, is an old friend I let in.
I smile. I hug her.
I want to ask her how she has been.
But I know.
We both look deep into the green eyes of what was.
We sigh.
We step into a hug and hold on.
Because we are so alone.
Work doesn't fill in the gaps of the past.
Art tries..dear God art tries to quiet my mind.
My sister, bless her heart tries.
and for the moment
while we laugh at the past
she quiets
my heart
then I dream
of Thanksgivings
I dream
of the
smokey past
and I wish I had NOT left you
and I wonder
I wonder
I wonder
if you ever

think
of me.