It’s so quiet today, save a few peripheral noises
From the world outside.
Voices down the hall, indistinguishable words,
Clicks on keyboards, paper rustling,
The sound of business.

I stare at the objects on my desk
A picture of friends,
A postcard, a withered balloon, a map,
The clutter of work in process, a tangle of wires,
A phone that never rings.

I smile at the picture, and remember when…
So vivid the memory.
I can feel it, I touch the frame and run my finger
Across the glass, across the smiling faces
And feel the bitter sweetness.

I long to go back to that moment, to feel
The joy of that day.
To anticipate once more, the moments to follow
The excitement and camaraderie
How young we all looked.

I pick up the postcard, and pull it to my face
I inhale the smell of it,
I touch it against my cheek, feeling the coolness
And read the words, again
Already knowing them.

The sweetness of life’s memories, little reminders
Of times past
Proof of existence, I return the card to its place
And feel a warmth, a peace
Move though my soul.

by Cathy Jackson

Comments (2)

this poem has a nice muiscality -
Simply beautiful Cathy! ! Such a wonderful description of a private moment. I enjoyed this poem very much. Sincerely, Mary