Besieged

Oftentimes, in quiet moments
of solitude, I am besieged
by images of the past
Another's, imagined, and most often my own

A vast non-linear dimension on which my consciousness constantly and incomprehensibly treads

Faces, names and times forgotten,
places, undated unidentifiable photographs
Shadows of happenings remain, whiffs of the atmosphere,
strains of feelings, voices and music
Vague regrets, lost objects, things done and not done
Mostly disappointment at being left behind

A poetic moment of melancholic stillness in the paused present
as if to look back, false promises, and let a past, catch up;

though both know it never will.

Feb 6 2008