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A Note on the Whiteboard Fading

Everything fades,

It is a trade off between

The importance of then and now,

Each day the cells of our skin

Scatter like flakes in the wind

And new cells are slow to grow,

We are fading though it barely shows,

But it is happening,

Make no mistake,

Nature will not remake

What is lost,

Look at the dinosaurs,

You may argue they are reborn

As birds and crocs,

But what is a sparrow,

Or an iguana —

Just drops in a pool of memory,

DNA dust floating in the last rays of the sun.

But I digress,

The note on the whiteboard,

Is like a voice getting softer,

An echo at the end of its journey,

The message I had scribbled

To serve as a reminder

Has faded,

Like a leaf with no chlorophyll,

Faint outlines, getting fainter still.

I try to retrace those words again,

Like sparrows are to dinosaurs

Scraggy lines are to revelations,

And the more I stare

The more I realize that in not finding meaning

In some words on the board,

I may have lost a little part of you,

Even if it was just a note to buy flowers

Every Wednesday, or clear some bills,

Or leave the keys by the window sill.

No slate is completely wiped clean it seems,

And while I can’t remake what I have lost,

I can owe you a rose for every day I forgot.

Written on the whiteboard, a note to self,

It reads even as it begins to fade —

Make too many trade offs

And there will be nothing left to trade.

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