Like the mist of an early morning rain
and the love of an older dog
Like the spontaneous hug from a passing child
and coffee from a mountain fire
Like a call from an old retired friend
and the memory of one who left
Like those boots now broken in at last
and a map whose roads have changed
Like the smell and taste of a memory lost
and not the mileage but the miles
Like a rainbow reaching out at dawn
and the distant whistle of a train
Like a promise made for its own sake
and a marriage not on loan
Like a burden once it’s lifted free
and the present not the past
Like a thing put off, put off again
and the reasoning unknown
Like an hour spent inside a dream
and a wish that’s more than hope
Like your name when called to stand your ground
and the courage that’s required
Like a song you’ve heard a thousand times
and whose words still feel the same
Like a river rushing toward the sea
and a boy who knows its mind
Like a favored son to share your name
and the bond to keep it so
Like a reason that you can’t disclose
and the one who never asks
Like that girl who keeps your faith alive
—and your heart forever free
(The New Room: April, 2021)
Copyright 2021 Kurt Philip Behm
An Anthology Of Perception 