Overbooked

P7. Ode

This one is an ode but doesn't follow the strophe, antistrophe, and epode. It's also acrostic.

Ode to Memory

Little by little

inch by inch

fading memories

each and every day

I remember the long

Summer weekends

Papa in his chair

a drink in hand.

I sat outside on a swing

not a friend in sight.

Little by little

inch by inch

fading memories

each and every day.

I try to remember the

Summer mornings with

Maggie in the kitchen

eggs and bacon sizzling and little

Ray wagging his tail. She’s

certainly feeling better than

yesterday.

Little by little

inch by inch

fading memories

each and every day

I can’t remember a

Summer without pain and mercy.

With this REWRITE I threw out the acrostic.

Ode to Memory

I remember the long

summer weekends

Papa in his chair

a drink in hand.

I sat outside on a swing

not a friend in sight.

I try to remember the

summer mornings with

Maggie in the kitchen

eggs and bacon sizzling and little

Ray wagging his tail. She’s

certainly feeling better than

yesterday.

But I always remember

the summer days

Wondering what was missing.

Blank walls, the closed room in the

Back of the house.

Maggie tried to hide it.

Papa too.

Mom wasn’t there.