Loss
By the time I remembered your name
I had forgotten your face,
and then I couldn’t recall
why I wanted to talk to you
in the first place.
Words and phrases bounce,
water off a duck’s back.
They sparkle like a high tide
rejected by the retriever
as he shakes his coat dry
on emerging from the sea.
This book I read is a word parcel,
a clepsydra of droplets,
a rainbow strung with colored beads,
each scouring a bull’s eye
on the world’s taut literary hide.
Mapa mundi of forgotten lands,
I trace dark landmarks
on the back of scarred hands
and wonder why I have never visited
faraway places with strange-sounding names.
Tourist guide to a failing memory,
I track the trails of drifting ships
as their white sails vanish,
blank butterflies from a distant summer,
floating over a darkening horizon.
Click here for Roger’s reading on Anchor.
Loss
rogermoorepoet 
WOW! As usual, I love your way with words. And as for that memory thing, I forget if I remember anything at all these days. Guess I had better spend more time on those chapters of “Memories” I’m working on. Much editing still to be done from beginning to the end!
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Ah yes, get them down while you think about them. And remember: you can always use a tape recorder AND there is probably a voice recorder on your computer. There’s certainly one on mine. Works well too. Best wishes.
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I do believe there is one on the laptop. I know there is one on my phone and Kindle, but I don’t speak very well these days. Forget the word I’m looking for which doesn’t show while writing because I can leave it for hours or even days until I remember. Hate to admit that but age has taken a trip through my brain as well as across my face. Hugs.
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