I reach for a thought that melts away
…snow falling outside a sliding glass door
…children playing in white too bright for my mind.
Only shadows remain.
She looks into my camera, her wide eyes sparkling,
bundled in a snowsuit on a day once too crisp.
I forget….was she wearing pink? orange?
Where was her brother?
I stood beside a baby grand piano that day, vowing to remember
details tucked inside a mental scrapbook that became, over time,
nothing more than a child’s drawing…
…while my son hid under the piano, waiting for his chance to shine.
Once, I played out my life on that piano,
remembering the full moon outside a concert hall
giving life to the notes of Debussy’s Ballade.
I know not of the days with his wife, or troubles with his children.
All that remains are the impressions, a taste of his emotions that once
flowed through fingers able to touch the fleeting thoughts,
though not as well.