Growing Old

There are times

when life splits

into so many joys

one just hangs on,

amazed. And times

when one is alone

in a garden

where nothing 

grows. And times

when one takes

someone's hand and says,

"Why were you gone so long?"

Memory

Over powdering stones

of what had been

a house

cascades of scarlet

bougainvillea

wrap window,

door,

but thorned,

bringing blood

when touched,

                        so much

 like

          you