Words Know Not Death


Life’s residue seeks but categorization
filing and archiving.

From
worn paths seen through heavy mist,
where rubber balls once bounced,
bicycle tires rolled,
sneakers kicked rocks,
Vibram soles trekked…

To
transient echoes heard distant,
where taxi horns blew,
subway rails labored loud,
pigeons cooed serenely,
radio controlled sail boats
dotted Central Park’s lake…

Remembering
where gentle touches
made rewarding a mother’s love,
a child’s security,
a father’s confidence,
grandfather’s trust,
grandmother’s faith…

Such
becomes part of Life’s driftwood,
aging destined to be fed of experience,
honored,
harvested,
used,
recycled.

Life’s personal lexicon…

Experience shared,

is experience without end,

for words know not death.