Hold On

Love memories, a gravestone’s dust of snow
Twirls beneath a mirrored glistening ball
The way you say, “I’m yours for good”
Baryshnikov, Rampal, a flute
The trip from Boulder never gone to Birmingham 
The peppermint sweet schnapps and mac and cheese
The dress, the scarf, the wooly gloves
That summer dream
To fire in distant eyes

I pass them all to you to hold for me.

You know I need my hands free now
to catch me at my age.
That tightening stomach twist
of knowing I will fall.