the lost years

there are lost years,

not doubt,

periods of time unremembered,

unremarkable,

nothing etched

in stone,

or memorialized.

perhaps a few

photographs in drawers,

but most

just a blur

of the mundane, work

eat, sleep, drink,

television,

putting food on the grill,

going to the eastern

shore,

watching your children

grow as they

kick a ball around

on frozen fields, then

the eventual loss of love,

divorce.

but it's not quite over,

is it?

there's more.