This day.
This day
will surely go unnoticed.
It would by me

were it not for a small

thread of memory

that tip-toed across my thoughts
in the hours before dawn.

This day.

This day

will surely go unnoticed.

It is inconsequential
in the grand and complicated

and forgetful turnings
of this world

where you and I exist.

This day.
This day

will surely go unnoticed.
It arrived with no fanfare,
for there is no marking of the day
that left me wild and undone

and full of life again —
 except this.

• • •

©2011, Jen Payne

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