Ph: Poetry Writing: Surfing Memories Poem by Brian Johnston

Although good lines are not accidents
How I love to surf an old memory that
Floats into consciousness, a fall colored leaf,
With hues never seen before, its heart exposed,
Drifting past my car along an earthen curb
That is transient too, and new rain erodes with time.
Magical images, dearer for distance perhaps,
But headed for oblivion non-the-less,
Like a love that only one heart still remembers.

Ah! It is good to be old, with so much treasure,
Even if I am the only one left who can touch it,
Feel its heft, or judge its impact on future lives.
October's rain has cleaned the air and
The decaying leaves in the gutter smell sweet,
Okay with the cycles of life that engulf them.
I swirl the cut tea in the bottom of my cup,
And wait expectantly for the future they predict,
Knowing, trusting, feeling all is well!

Brian Johnston
January 5,2018