The Memory of a Summer Postcard

"Man in Central Park" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia

Niles Beach, Gloucester, Massachusetts, August 10, 2011 

Revised April 15, 2012

Somewhere, my friend, now fading,

frayed, what once was bright

in living hues is now pastel

and washed out gray. It seems

much like old memory, this

rocky harbor picture postcard

captured worlds within its borders

crescent beach and bracing water

muted light and frozen sparkles

far-off figures joined to shadows

silhouettes at rest forever, sifted

from the flowing stream.

An aging man

there sat alone

just watching seas

he seemed to ponder

something lost

some time ago

forgotten ways

abandoned goals

or maybe supper – 

silhouettes withhold

their secrets, time

sweeps currents

seldom crossed.

Today I walk with niece

and nephews, bride

and partners, past old homes

with fragrant arbors

to a strip of sand and shadow

smells of salt and washed up

slime, high shrieks aloft

on ocean breezes, sparkles

playing over water, loved

ones laughing, lounging

waiting, youthful vigor

bursting through, they yearn

for someplace new to anchor

softer sand lies ever farther.

Y’all go on your own, ya hear.

There’s something here

I need to ponder – 

what that gray

man gazing saw

and how it felt

in weathered skin

with waning days

and winter coming.

Let me drift off

August harbors

let cold currents

sweep me free

inhabit realms

I’ll never see

pursue their ghosts

relentlessly, replenish

dreams of those

I meet, refinish

postcard memories.

Skedaddle please

just leave me be, 
your restless spirits

must press on.

There’s happiness

in what I have – 

warm sun baking

sea from skin

honest hunger

ample supper

family style

with playful banter

served to salve

the fraying edges

well suffice to staunch

the graying.

Catch’ya in the evening chill

I say aloud to no-one near

as déjà vu sweeps ever stronger

overwhelming memory. 
With laughter trailing distantly

they merge into my postcard

harbor, tintype silhouettes

to treasure, relics held by love

forever – living hues shall never fade.