Caleb Hill

Remember  
 
We were an uneasy rhyme, 
uncoupled long before September 
but still we had a few weeks' time; 
enough to now remember. 
 
All the songs that I discovered 
to match the ones that you would share: 
how my mind and phone were cluttered 
with the tokens of your care, 
which I now remember. 
 
The stretch of car-congested highway 
where I told your mom the tale 
of how I worked to win you my way 
and how I worried I would fail. 
And now that cooler heads prevailed, 
I drive it and remember 
 
the Denny’s where I hid the flowers 
I brought out to make you blush 
when we stole one laughing hour 
taking pictures over lunch. 
I hope that you remember 
 
that I was a kind contender, 
an earnest, honest diplomat, 
but I could not be both sides’ defender 
with your doubts upon my back. 
My sore shoulders still remember. 
 
Weary under heavy questions, 
bitter at a burdened mind, 
too late I learned love’s patient lesson 
not to pay back fear in kind. 
Next time, I’ll remember. 
 
I may not relight the ember, 
nor walk again the world, 
where I learned my heart was tender 
to half-rhymes and you, my girl, 
but since it’s foolish to forget: 
let these lines remember.

Caleb Hill is a cyber security technician by day, poet and writer around the clock. His body lives in central Pennsylvania: his mind does its best to do the same. He has been writing poetry since his father taught him the haiku on his 8th birthday.