pain is a series of memories

comes in spells
in solitudes and crowds
during deja vu doppleganger
instances taking you back
to departed loved ones
to your source where it
all began …
misty eyed and
pensive you sieve glittery
tid bits for consumption
smiling and cackling as the case
maybe in recalling….replete
with pain of bodyblow losses
is a malaise
and a release
affirming you’re still alive…
nothing accentuates it more
than the autumn leaves denuding
en masse leaving tree trunks
brown and stark naked ….
… I often wonder why does
autumn fill me with joy
and a crush of sadness
as leaves crunch underfoot
on pavements …
tis their departure that saddens…
and then I recall those surprises
in flowers sent from overseas
on my red letter days brightening
up my mom-ness
later touched by time’s wand
bright fragrant flowers begin to decay
in falling petals filling me with wistful
sighs of empty nester longings

arrives in many ways
without much fanfare
usually ..
tis a chameleon
if I may….

Sunflowers and Lane of Poplars by Van Gogh


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