The Gazebo

A moment in time
flashes before
my eyes
or rather the recesses of my brain
where memories, scents, and images
not to mention a quiet bubbling rush
of emotion
collide

In this moment there is a gazebo

We stopped to take a photograph
on a Smoky Mountain venture
I can smell the caramel apples
and feel the familiarity of
the city

We held our baby boy so close
chubby legs and dimples on his flushed
round cheeks
The three of us
in a fairy tale reality
protected by wooden spindles
and fall flower boxes

I’m afraid to try and look
for the photograph
Afraid it won’t be there
Afraid the rush of emotion
may evolve into a roaring river

So in this space in my cortex
the sweet memory will remain
And it will linger on days like this
when I need to remember from where
we came

And the journey since
like those elusive vaporous
layered
peaks and valleys

In stillness will always
be just there
like the eternal structure
of time
like the sanctuary
of the gazebo.

the-gazebo-at-washington-crossing-300x213

2 Comments

Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

2 responses to “The Gazebo

  1. ron

    your gazebo
    my treehouse
    my swings
    alas I wasn’t picked to play boy tarzan my hero

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