The empty hours steal the day
as we attempt to seek distraction
a temporary get away
in quietude and conversation—
and though we have but naught to say.
and though our stories rarely change
peace is found repetition.
Across the lines, we borrow time
diversion from this hill we climb;
another day, the same refrain
unsure just what we hope to gain,
perhaps we’re looking for the same…
searching for an intervention
for loneliness without a name
© Ginny Brannan 2022
Why do we try to reconnect,
to seek out names that we once knew?
To find where they landed? To learn their fate?
Is it just to set our memories straight?
Why insist on recapturing this past that exists
only in our mind's eye; a dimming collage
of youthful desires and broken dreams
seen in fading colors and sepia-toned themes.
Were we really so different from one another?
Each of us pursuing our own place as we chased
obscure shadows toward a future unknown;
each searching for salvation on this road to perdition
where time has become the great equalizer
between our cradle and the grave
© Ginny Brannan 2022
