PICNIC

Bright light melts across the menthol sky as
Ribbons of bar code clouds scan overhead
The scent of charcoal burning stains the air
Through which the children at their picnic play
Lost amid the smiling, happy chatter
The moments slip the grasp of memory.

Time’s forgotten
Time lingers on
times forgotten.
Time presses one.

Don’t forget to remember me to them!

Don’t remember to forget … about me.

 

-Benjamin Keay © 2010

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About waronliteracy

Storyteller, teacher, author of "Perfect Solution" and "Dire Requisite," I stand alone in the aftermath of the war on literacy, looking for other survivors ... we are out there ... somewhere.
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