Ligo Haibun Challenge "Guitar & Mountain"

Ligo Haibun Challenge "Guitar & Mountain"

It’s November again, another anniversary passing. 

unannounced flowers

left on the table

for me

Peace, Love, and Kill Western

I think back to the mountain valley where we meet.   Rival supporters for college football.  One dance with you sealed my fate.   You played your guitar and slid across the floor on your knees.  I tried to fix you up with my best friend who went to the same school as you.  She wasn’t interested in the least.  I was head over heels about you, but had a boyfriend.  

We dated for awhile.  I was too immature for a serious relationship, yet our friendship lingered.   Through all my broken relationships there was always you, your guitar and rock concerts.

mountains and valleys

strangers, music and guitars

and always you

Your proposal was bitter sweet. You came early in the evening and played with the boys.  You returned later with your guitar.  I was wrapped in blankets to keep warm and you kept singing love songs.  Finally feigning a headache, I went to the car in search of Tylenol.  I sat there and a mountain of tears flowed. We’d been dating about five years and had talk about marriage. School was beginning and with our teaching schedules, I knew we would not mention it again until summer.  I dried my tears and returned inside.  You were packing your guitar.  How my heart broke.  Standing in the door way you said, “How would you like to attend a wedding?” My answer a flippant “Well that depends on who’s wedding.”  I honestly did not know this was a proposal.

Since then we’ve climbed many of life's mountains together. And sometimes you still pick up your guitar and sing me love songs.

warm autumn

the mountain's song

still plays

Dusty Old Records

Ligo Haibun Challenge based on Jim Croce songs "Photographs and Memories""New York's Not My Home"

I sit in the empty house, sifting through old photographs, wondering if and when these times existed.  Tattered memorabilia, faded roses now brittle like my memories. Jim Croce keeps me company in my misery.  The people in these photos, strangers to my heart.  I cannot tell for sure if someone hasn’t switched them out ...can’t remember such happy times.  They look vaguely familiar, like old black and whites of distant relatives.  False memories you think you might remember because you’ve heard the stories time and again. Photographs and Memories plays and the verse “Morning walks and bedroom talks are how I loved you then” reminds me of how we use to read to each other, take long walks and talk.  Seems like a lifetime ago; sometime before we said, “I do,”  before Jekyll turned to Hyde.

I organize the photos pausing as the next album drops and Jim sings more to my pain. Tears spill and drop on the photo of you smiling.  The album so worn it sticks and repeats after “I gotta get out of here, I’m so alone”.  --so alone, so alone, so alone...  I pack up the memories, dust myself off, go for a walk, change my perspective.  At last I close up.the record player, pop in a tape and blast Ricky Lee Jones as I dance through my chores preparing for my children to return.  Now there is joy, I never will regret.

old photographs

static reminders

of past I cannot change

old vinyl records

pull on my heartstrings

another dusty rose

dusty photos

draw me into the past

but can’t hold my heart