Down the avenues of memory. My imagination paints what the picture takes. Please accept this repose from my silence as I deliberate over the direction of this blog.
A snap shot of memory is a snap shot of us
Shadows stretched from feet, kept pace, though unusually quiet
Like a man who’s removed his blindfold but stays silent
Trees weathered branches withered; bursting rustic warm leaves gave me a shiver
Outlined in the foliage a tiger burned bright
Cloud’s shadow crawled over bare-knuckle mountain, began traversing the valley toward us to meet our shaded contours lying beside the blazing long golden grass
I paused to ponder the purpose of the past,
But no sooner forgot when wind forced tree’s coat to detach.
Furled brows beneath a forehead creased, when your hat matched the trunk mine was covering the leaves.
What use for a camera in a Carpathian dream? Cumulus clusters float by like my memories, and there we stand with a ladder at our feet.
As cloud’s shadow encroaches and envelops my constant companion, I have but one question:
Please hold it steady while I climb?