This is a continuation –

Of blues music and sweet, sad notes,

Of the little lost girl standing on the street corner with her low-slung jeans,

Shy, inviting smile –

Oh, baby, oh honey –

A continuation of embroidered pillows

On a grandmother’s couch,

Propped up by an old, sleeping cat,

Moss growing on dead statues in the garden,

Becoming the statue –

When there are no gardens in the city,

Only window boxes of poppies and sage –

Look at the color red amidst the grey buildings, how bright –

The still man in the coffee shop,

Steaming mug nursed in his hands,
Old antique camera gathering dust before him,

This is a continuation –

Of the grandfather clocks and 1920’s dresses,

As the women sashayed their hips and men tipped their hats,

The buildings were newer then –

But oh, still old, how old were they –

This is a continuation –

Of rocket beats and hard decisions,

Of old journals burned and new ones written –

Somewhere, everywhere, around and around –

Of the queens in modern-day life,

And the royals who really don’t know or care,

This is a continuation –

Of burned CDs of children’s songs,

The little lost boy eating a microwaved meal on his own –

I’m home, I’m home on my own –

Of the grandfather’s bird feeder,

Where the squirrels eat all the seed,

To the city where there are few squirrels

And lots of cats –

Of the older sister who had to run,

Of the younger brother who wondered why –

You didn’t stay –

This is a continuation –

Of previous poems,

And re-written words,

Because stories are always retold –

Oh, baby, oh honey –

Chipped nail polish,

Day-old coffee and dirty dishes left in the sink,

Crazy, repetitive tunes left on the radio,

Of old regrets and travel logs,

Of long hair and the

Snip! of scissors –

It’s gone, has anything changed? –

This is a continuation –

Of a slow song played in a crowded bar,

Of the sun when it sets with an orange glow over fresh snow,

Of forgotten children’s laughter,

And far too many tears –

Please don’t cry –

Of weathered books,

Pages smudged with love,

Of heartache, then fear –

When the one you love finally loves you back,

And you aren’t sure what to do,

This is a continuation –

Of holiday memories and family traditions,

Of old gangster movies and played-up musicals,

Old musk perfume and vases of flowers by the door,

Of the stars and wreaths and angel wings –

This is a continuation of life –

This is a continuation of you.