Will I forget
Since time has past?
Will I forget
Because I should?

Would your name fade
Into the past?
Would I forget you
If I could?

If I forgot
Would it be the same?
Would every song
or book, or film
Remind me of your name?

And would I write
Of something new?
And could I care,
If it weren’t you?

Would there be something
Left of me
If I tossed your memory
Into the sea?

For there are a thousands reasons why
I shouldn’t believe in you.
So, why do I find a thousand more
To prove why I still do?


The Observer

From a hospital window:

I watched a handful of people walk out into the parking lot. From their somber exchange of glances to the way one put an arm around another I could see they had just lost someone. At least one of them wiped tears off his face, another stood with her head down making a phone call. Their expressions were resigned as if they had expected it to come. And slowly they parted after the reassurance of a nod, handshake or hug.

All that I know is that someone has died, someone was loved and those left behind love each other.


She ran her fingers through her hair as she gazed at the ceiling, contemplating her life in the pattern of ceiling tiles, air vents, lights and smoke detectors.

Hospitals are like airports. Full of goodbyes, of family and of friends, of strangers and heartfelt moments. Joy and tears. People who are considering the meaning of life.