Would my life were just a photo
smiling back from someone’s screen–
some painted memories in an album
that tell some happy little story,
yet we’re not always who we seem.
At times, the past feels like a dream
as days and months keep wending by–
the winter cold sneaks down upon us
as life keeps going all around us.
Like the leaves, we slip and fall
...we’re only human, after all.
Clouds roll in, dark days abound
to gnaw us like some parasite;
I find my thoughts begin to wander
and in the early hours I ponder
the chill that permeates these bones,
yet will not share with any candor
how hard it is to be alone.
© Ginny Brannan 2021