Rolls, Not Danish
We finally ran out of toilet paper. Faith had the great foresight of buying a whole warehouse full when she was five months ago and we never had to worry about it till now. I am reminded of Aiken’s poem, for her hands have graced this house. Hands that have lined the kitchen drawers with Christmas wrapping paper. I just wanted to reminiscense her presence here, that the memory of her love for me will never run out.
MUSIC I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is dead.
Your hands once touched this table and this silver, And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, belovèd, And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
For it was in my heart you moved among them, And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; And in my heart they will remember always,— They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.
-Conrad Aiken
I miss you so much. Blogger Comments x
This is an amazing poem so true. The first paragraph is so striking, it makes me cry.