Promises

The grasses bend their golden heads under 

the dusty-hot sun, aching burden of 

catatonic stillness, joints sticky shafts

creaking in the quiet.

Somewhere a sound stirs that 

is not tempest or fire but a restless

excitement for the forthcoming--a 

palpable ambient electricity. 

Slowly at first, the grasses raise their heads

and dance--their rustlings assuring 

whisperings--a comforting caress 

rippling to every horizon of the soul.

2,4,2,8

2,4,2,8 in B major

remind me that I left you,

remind me that it's been 782 days since 

I saw you,

remind me that I wanted so much to 

save you--

but only ended up hurting you,

remind me that we've sat 782 days 

on something we haven't been able to say

but with our intonations,

remind me that I lacked faith in the measure

with which you could love me,

remind me that no matter the fervency with which I ache 

to feel your arms again I think I might break if I do,

remind me that I could have seen you,

remind me that I chose not to or that you

promised me a beautiful life but I planned another one

without you 

and forgot to tell you

or that I looked ahead and saw what I could have with you

or that I weighed my options and chose--again--

to be away from you

that I've tried again, again, and again to erase memories--

like our future--of you

and yet they still come through

with 

2,4,2,8 in B major