A Few Things

In memory
are a few things
worth preserving:

deep sunshine taste
of a particular Key West mango;

scent of eucalyptus trees
through the windows
of a hotel

in Rancho Santa Fe;

one sharp pang of disappointment
at gray night skies

on the hills above Albuquerque
on the night of
the Perseid shower;

voices of friends, lovers, and
random phrases
overheard from strangers;

cannon hum
of an old Gibson 

against my chest;

a slip of the tongue
that eventually made
for one magnificent line

in a mediocre bit of poetry;

a song in my head
that I never learned to play

or sing, but which gave me hope
every day I picked
at my strings

or my paper and pen.  

In memory are things
worth preserving,
and none of them
will be found

in my bones 
when I pass;

so on that day
or soon after

when they set me
on fire

may my ashes
signal no sadness
at the release of 
my spirit
from my matter

but instead
flag its flight
as it is dragged
and lifted 
on the kindness
of wind;

let it settle
wherever it wants,
in one or in many,
in new life
or aged lungs, 
upon stone 
or soft ground;

let it be true
that I didn’t matter
in life as much 
as I do in what
I carried within,
what little 

I leave behind:

song, flavor, 
sense, breath.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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