Long ago, in elegant poverty, Love caught us there.\u00a0\u00a0We \u00a0were perfectly placed among wild flowers and filth.\u00a0 Some now\u00a0gone forth beyond us they flew by,\u00a0easily\u00a0holding us frozen- like a picture in an old-fashioned frame, or a magazine.\u00a0 Where we stay\u00a0laughing and young, forever. No rotten past, just a rumitizing hypmottize<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But when that page is turned, the next shot shows that same couple posed and more polished version of the other time; I can’t remember that sight. But it’s certainly insistent and said to be right.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And it might be.\u00a0Then those same people, seen when much older, comfortable around the oddly impressively set together by some one’s good ideas, the way a good\u00a0restful reason\u00a0should be.\u00a0\u00a0 The same people, later,… among the same sort of things, thrown like jacks from the hand, here and there.\u00a0 \u00a0 But the sardonic decor, somehow\u00a0 perfect but which will become later a country standard unto it’s own intrusive and oddly disdained, backkdrop for music. New, starting from that piano–I can’t work it.\u00a0 50% probablity of half as\u00a0much\u00a0unlike what surrounded\u00a0them when they were\u00a0in a \u00a0family before,\u00a0 as if they were changing, as the days passed they changed infront of a\u00a0backdrop.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0 When they were young and constantly in \u00a0motion, though both in close proximiy to friendship\u00a0 it wasn’t to be, There is that unannswered question\u00a0still there as they continue to share that spaceinnthe gaps in the picture. They are both carefully holding hot-house roses, each\u00a0rose perfect, each one young and painfully colored. I remembered these roses held no smell, and when touched, most, if not all the petals dropped to the floor,-in an artful display.\u00a0 Thouugh outwardly projecting a impervious emotional barrier, to seperate these people here froming seeming too pround and assured.\u00a0 They were realy there\u00a0 the next time, \u00a0but some how things come out in a slow mo. view of walking down stairs.\u00a0 First when I was 25, then now when I am 60 years old, some things remain, though\u00a0somewhat\u00a0disconnected;\u00a0 Oddly appearing\u00a0 but much more dignified — at least they were that. Maybe no longer the beautys time stole from us, we continue, These same lovers, so different in so many ways and years from now, when the bills are all paid and their souvenirs neatly placed on polished glass shelves, opened graves, needing weekly\u00a0dusting, remain posed,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Still.\u00a0 \u00a0It all fits like so many leaves on a tree in the shade. A welcoming comfort we offer each other,\u00a0together, suspended, sustained. Then, we will stop and brush off these extra few\u00a0days–caked on like dirt–.\u00a0In a haze;\u00a0we, in our separate ways. In amazement, I remember two youg, too young \u00a0lovers\u00a0with the dirt swept away. Slowly fading as they begain\u00a0falling bac, into that particular dust that smelled like old roses.<\/p>\n
Caroline Abbitt Sauer (1998\/2007)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Long ago, in elegant poverty, Love caught us there.\u00a0\u00a0We \u00a0were perfectly placed among wild flowers and filth.\u00a0 Some now\u00a0gone forth beyond us they flew by,\u00a0easily\u00a0holding us frozen- like a picture in an old-fashioned frame, or a magazine.\u00a0 Where we stay\u00a0laughing and young, forever. No rotten past, just a rumitizing hypmottize \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But when that page […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-103","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/103","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=103"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/103\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":512,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/103\/revisions\/512"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=103"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=103"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stgn.kaybuena.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=103"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}