Forgotten

Forgotten

[Centro written with Billy Collin’s Poetry]

The moon in the window seems to have drifted,

Out of a love poem you used to know by heart.

One by one the memories you used to harbor

Decide to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain.

You blinked and moved on.

I asked you to take our poem and hold it up to the light,

Like a color slide.

But all you wanted to do is tie the poem to a chair,

With rope and torture it.

Our love poem you are struggling to remember.

The name was the first to go,

Followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heart breaking conclusion.

Which suddenly becomes one you have never read,

Never even heard of.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river.

But the poem has my attention;

Gives me a clear picture.

And that gives me a strong feeling,

But maybe that’s just me…

Look more closely at the word in the beginning.

Those and all the other words will cease

A darkness for which we have no other name.

Which makes me think this could all be a dream.