Occasionally when I can't get started on something I HAVE to write, I will just start writing something else and let the process work itself out until words are flowing readily, even for the tedious writing someone is paying me to do. Tonight I did that, while thinking of the family Christmas party I am not attending, and I came up with the passage below. Not sure if it's poetry or prose. Maybe it's not either, but I thought it worth posting and inviting comment on. You can comment on my writing, or on the subject matter, or on your own experiences. Feel free.
See below the fold...
crossposted at The Stinging Nettle.
Eyeblink
Work continues.
So do you.
Your legs and arms, once pudgy,
dimpled,
uncontrolled,
are now long and graceful.
Your grip on the handlebars, once unsure,
spastic,
swerving,
now steady, planned -- aiming for the jumps.
The gaps in your smile testify
to the calendar’s inexorable advance.
To you, four to seven was forever. Eternity.
The difference between boy and kid.
The difference between mommy’s car
and waiting for the bus.
To me,
an eyeblink.
A lost second.
A daydream.
I only turned around twice,
and a young man is there, where the little boy once
ate mac and cheese with his fingers.
I promised you I'd be there.
I promised me not to miss a second.
Now I revel by phone
in reports of your successes,
as another gate attendant demands
my presence in zone 3.
The tree house, half-finished, taunts me.
But here I sit.
Important things to accomplish.
Important people to please.
But none near so important as you.