You once called it “brain fog” and I suppose that it may be true.
Though cloaked in mist I still resist losing first memory of you.
Never before or since had I seen any beauty which could compare.
That’s how I like to remember – you may know, as you were there.
I stood there subtly shaking, shyly straining: ‘Slowly. Breathe.’
Feeling far from confident but desperately wanting to believe.
Standing before a gorgeous geeky goddess, as nervous as could be.
Did you truly want to spend some time with someone strange like me?
A year has passed since first date, since first flutter of fear.
Miraculously you’re still with me; smile sweetly, hold me near.
Afraid I cannot recall each every day that passed in-between.
Cannot reminisce on everything we’ve heard, smelled or seen.
Nor can I now tell you even what we discussed a few weeks ago.
At the time it seemed important – of this you’re sure you know.
I can tell you I truly love you, still say sincerely how I feel,
still store some soft focus memories on my dusty highlights reel.
I remember the night we first made love, lying upon a fresh made bed.
Remember rosy red lips and dress, though not a word of what we said.
We moved so slow & tender – I’d taken you to the theatre that night.
Wined & dined & then reclined, had hoped to make first time feel right.
It was as good for you as it was for me – well, that’s how I now recall.
You say it was so when I ask you now and you were there too after all.
Perhaps we should stage a reenactment, to jog memory and be sure?
You smile and say you are ready; we head upstairs for our encore.
I remember too the first time that I unintentionally made you cry.
The tears tumbled down as raindrops – though I can’t recall now why.
I just remember my heart aching as you sat sobbing in such sad pain,
wishing desperately that I’d never ever make you feel such pain again.
I wrapped my arms around you, whispered words sugar sweet, each true.
My eyes embraced yours, enchanted; and so soon I sat crying too.
I’m sorry for whatever it was which I said or did to you that day.
Yet can’t conjure up what that was – my memory’s been washed away.
I still hope to be with you forever and to forever love you true.
Making many misty Monday morning memories…
…a lifetime lived with you.
Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.
One thought on “Misty Monday Morning Memories”
Added this poem along with a long author’s note at ridiculous o’clock last night but aware that some people may be put off by a long author’s note & just want to read a poem without an explanation. So, here’s the poem again minus the author’s note. For those of you who are curious as to the meaning, please refer to last night’s version instead. Interested to see if this poem works in its own right without the explanation anyway or whether the context is needed to make it make sense.