Poetry is But a Conversation

Poetry is but a conversation we share

     with ourselves, casual talk of the life we’ve forgotten,

     tucked away into the recesses of memory

     for days like today, in solitude remembering

     who we were – then – and wondering, perhaps,

     how we got to now, giving up, as we did,

     as we had to – time’s requirement –

     giving up our youth to age,

     young love and innocence, reckless daring,

     lost in growing up, growing away

     into the recesses of memory

     for days like today, in solitude remembering.