Blankly staring for miles —
huge, dumb grin at nothing in particular.
I’m everywhere I’ve ever been, reflecting on moments long passed,
times we laughed, stirred pots, clinked glasses.
I’m there, then,
but I fade in and out of coming to, just long enough to see
I’m still here, now.
Is it ever only a memory?
In between he times I was pleasantly blindsided, the times I was
dumbfounded by what stands right in front of me.
The fond farewells I look back on with a grin,
the times I stood in the rain,
the goodbyes I’ve exchanged,
tearful then, tearful now.
Is it ever only a memory?
The time slips through our fingers,
I’ve been sleepwalking.
A blur, a whirlwind,
we have today and today only, yet
I am the sum of
everything I’ve ever done.
Is it ever only a memory?
The File Pile 