are gone at last

All my favorite things
I remember at 3AM
to forget by morning
just before rising
from my bed.

All my favorite things,
hidden behind my ear drums—
fearing every echo from a world
that threatens survival like
ocean tides to a footprint
in the sand.

All my favorite things,
crying voices that toast us
New Years Eve.
These are the tears
that fill our cups
because nostalgia is a habit.

All my favorite things,
gone like the tornado,
after lifting up a house—
spiraling disaster
from every corner I ever sat.

All my favorite things,
autographing damp napkins
with verses that cannot wait
until they are written to form a lake,
not to be swam on again
until a publisher
gives a man his break.

All my favorite things,
thrown to sit among the weeds
and be penetrated by time
like roots swarming
through the deep black soil.

I will always be
lost beauty
swirling in a sea of green.
The animals holler
like my reflection in the mirror,
trapped among the broke crack.

written on 10/01/2010 by: Matt Kane