BALM

When we were young and smooth

we did the things required of us to

cut our network of brainways, the

paths our thoughts would forever

follow to find the markers we left

back then when beauty was new.

Our wings spread as far as we could

see and we turned inside out so

even our guts could dance to the

beat of rock and roll joy on warm,

guileless nights whooped out loud

under the stars and in the wind.

Or those quiet times, just you

and me, pink in the moonlight

below the swelling Hemlocks,

rhododendron, and laurel. We

spread our blanket on a mossy bed

where we made love to the music

of splashing water in the rocky

creek just beyond the gibber stones.

So when I need to travel those

forgotten ways in search of

a balmy night under the sky,

when I am alone, scarred and

wrinkled under the naked sky,

this quilt I’ve saved holds the

music we made when beauty

was new and we owned time

for our sure season.

Copyright

Vol Lindsey

11/23/2019

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

We all have memories… my first was when I was wooed by an experienced Lover in College when I was fresh as a Daisy. He drove me along the West Coast beside a Great Tree and spread a Blanket… When we returned to the Boarding School with a Men’s Dorm and a Woman’s Dorm (we shared a Cafeteria for all Students)… we were the only two Students who were covered with Poison Oak that had huge blisters for a week or so). It was a Religious School in Napa Valley, California in 1959. You cannot write a Poem about that; however, we had all the Artichokes you could eat dipped in warm Butter for lunch and Dinner for the entire school year. As ever, Pat

[Vol]

Hello, Patricia,
That is a wonderful story! I was born at a Bible college... one from which my dad, a WWII, vet who was on Iwo Jima, beat up the dean of men. It seems he was harassing my mom and dad for being closer than six feet apart...
Vol

[Patricia Wedel]

Whoa… what a Story… it is all History now…
Be blessed… gently, Pat

[Vol]

And blessings to you, as well.

[Ayvid N]

Ageing changes our world. Youth is a beautiful dream lost before we know it and we are rudely woken. The journey is one of solitude then and of walking with ones memories. The quilt that you have is a token from the past, of when you loved and were loved in turn. Everyone must face this some day.

[Vol]

I have a bumper sticker on my helmet that says "Damn, I got old quick!

[Ayvid N]

Soon, very soon...we'll all ask to borrow it, dear Vol. :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I really love this piece.
It takes me back to my old days of romance and cuddling under the quilt...which now I use to keep my feet warm...
my old self sitting the couch absorbed in whatever is on the tv...but I still have all those memories
and wonder if I am in anyone else's memories.
I really like the pictures you create with your words,
j.

[Vol]

Thank you, sir. I'm glad you liked it! I always told my students, "The image IS the message..."

[Kelly Scheppers]

Yes! This is the kind of writing that makes me fall in love with writing! What a glorious feeling you've given us, Vol!

[Vol]

Well! I'm enjoying the fact that you like tit.. (Oh, s**t! Get thee behind me, Freud!)

[Lorry]

Ahh, when we were shiny and new.
I'm still thinking of those brainways being our own personal paths to things that even today seem bigger and better than life, like a cinematic jukebox with more than sight and sound, where the disc rarely skips and we can be that memory every time it plays.
Wonderfully captured.

[Vol]

It was a very long time ago...

[willweb]

That was different and a very interesting scene you created here. I like the thought of an old quilt retaining those times of the past and the memories of warmer days and passionate nights. Very cool.

[Vol]

The reminders of better days are everywhere...