Author: Ralph

Fight for her.

You know who I am talking about. I know you still remember.

Dig further into your brown square moving boxes of memories

You’ll find the scent. The tempo of leisurely siesta of golden age. Citrus bliss of youth blending graciously with the earth that abundantly provides.

Fragments of tender vignettes have been waiting here all along, sinking further into the inevitable abyss.

The touch. The smile. The softness. You do remember, don’t you?

So: fight for her. Do not neglect the promise sworn on that bridge. Onwards. Don’t look back. Fight for her.

8.22.2021

Have you noticed the creases at the back of your fingers have increased since the springtime when the blossom of the cherries cascaded like the white dancing will-o’-wisps?

That grocery list you swore you’d remember that summer afternoon as you put your feet into your sneakers to slip into the orange sunset, do you still remember?

Have the bubble that sizzled like fireworks of the July Fourth alongside the river ever got forgotten under thousands of layers of sediments of numbed memories over time?

Have they?

Do

You

Remember?

8.21.2021

Threw a tons of question

Answers stink of their immorality

Yet something about its warmth

Draws my attention closer

Wondering what it could be

I dip my finger to give it a try

Hoping this won’t take awhile

But who knows what beholds inside this one.

8.3.2021

Deep contemplation and years of encounters,

Thousands of practices may have prepared for this sprint

A challenge visited like a whimsical hail storm, a quick sand in a vast desert,

Your question prompts series of serious decisions to be made.

Do I know enough?

Do I risk my time?

Uncertain slope of the rope is to be ignored with a sprint.

Only fingers that are crossed may do something about this business.

8.1.2021