your words

didn’t quite catch
your words
that night
as you woke me
from my slumber
on the couch
the record still turning
on the turntable
the dog looking up
as I struggled
to my feet
my mind a haze
your words lost
like water
slipping through my fingers
like you
fading gradually
into the night
those words
still nagging
my memory
decades later
ten thousand miles

old pictures

there you stand
bent over slightly
your hands
on the dog’s neck
you both looking
at me
camera in hand
taking this picture
which now sits
on a bookshelf
in my den
a stick lying
at the dog’s paws
that I
most likely
use for play
with him
both of you gone
relegated to a memory
of a time
when we were young
and not yet wise
to how it would
eventually end
he to ashes
in an urn
on my desk
and you
lost to time
and old pictures
and me
with this ache
in my heart

oh how brief

the ice melts
in the glass
of Black Bush
and my mind
like the ice
into memories
of shared bottles
of old friends
of time past
and oh how brief
ice lasts
in a glass

the words

the words
so faint now
at three am
with a glass
or three
of Jameson
to add to the haze
that is memory
here there
a voice fades
in out
and time
that old bandit
robs me
once again
of the words