Reminiscence

Reminiscence moved over the night,
wound around the room,
and touched us on our shoulders.
She patted us on our backs and kissed our cheeks.

She stopped to listen like the friend
she would have been if we’d met back then.
She sat on the same curbs with us as we waited
for the Ice Cream Man.

She watched the trains move down the tracks
leaving our pennies
flattened with the pressure of their heat,
and us, wishing for exhilaration
but flattened by the pressure of our guilt.

Reminiscence parked her bike in the rack at the library
and moved between your table and mine.
She walked through the stacks and
whispered the names of authors in our ears.

She sat on the banks of a river that was
strong enough to wash away city blocks and
watched it flow by, spring after spring.
As strong as that river was it was
never able to wash away all of the
Imagined Sins Of A Teenager.

She watched our mothers cry over us.
She watched us cry over our mothers.

Reminiscence induced bursts of laughter and sighs.
She set fireflies of memory across the room.
They darted past us, near us, almost in our grasp.
They landed in front of us casting sweet illumination on the past.

She was also content to let our conversations move forward.
She didn't keep us lingering with her for long.
She knew that forward is what makes her existence
Reality.

As she sat quietly and listened to
Today.
She knew that one day this will be
Back Then.
She kissed us on our cheeks, and sat back.
She watched.




©Michelle Scofield All Rights Reserved October 16, 2010