A moon drifts into
the Past
(not looking where it is
going)
bumps into a me
I used to be.
“Oh, don’t tell me..
...I’ve got to go through all that again! ”
it mutters
(under its breath)
to itself.
An owl who doesn’t give a hoot
...gives a hoot.
My tears
stained silver
suddenly trickle through
the moonlight.
Lost now
in shadows
Memory
like the moon
snagged & torn
on a satellite dish
& crooked cracked chimney pot.
Doral Deepset
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-persistence-of-memory/
