Poetry Pause -- He Loved Trains

I can now only remember

bits and pieces of his face

as if a jigsaw puzzle

had been turned upside down

and there! on the floor

his crooked-tooth smile,

a pair of blue eyes with pale lashes,

a thatch of hair

the color of blond strawberries....

It's difficult, though,

to put the puzzle back together,

as if Time and my memory

conspire to fade

the only mental portrait of my brother

that I have.

Oh, I could pll out

any one of a hundred photos,

but it seems that Kodak is cheating

not to have mementoed the power of his stance,

the strength of arms which held love,

his splay-footed walk....

But worse,

the sound of his voice

and his laugh--these are growing still.

They are almost

as quiet as ashes scattered

along railroad tracks

in Virginia.

by Pandora

Mirage 2000

Literary & Arts magazine

This is a poem I wrote about my oldest brother, Rick.  Born October 18, 1942 and died November 4, 1996.  He passed away from lung cancer.  I so much looked up to him...I wonder if he ever knew how much.  Rick, I loved you then, and I love you now.  We all do.