i watch you from across the room

busy with your knitting

and i see long ago

birkenstocks and rag socks

a cloud of salt and pepper curls

your eyes that caught me

the same now

though the curls are gone

and the gray remains

memories come forth

walking along the beach

talking quietly

dreaming perhaps

ships, tiny specks on the horizon

bound across the sea

as gulls glide overhead

and the gray clouds close in

waking at sunrise

on the cañyon rim

the little creek that once watered

ancient plots of corn and squash

still flowing far below

we walked among obsidian chips and broken pottery

wondering about the ancient ones who had gone before

sitting together on school folding chairs

we watched our children perform

the same holiday dances, songs, recitals

as we had done many years before

leaving our old life

for our new old house

where fall comes early

deer bed down in the yard

and the children still dress up

for polite trick-or-treat

i look at you

and i see all this and more

two lives

lived full


Copyright Michael Douglas Scott