Micah Park Biffle

A Fading Mind Does she remember, oh does she remember? Does she remember my face, my voice, the mornings she cooked us breakfast before eight? Doe she remember the late night snacks and the laughter between our late day naps? Doe she remember me at all? I think not, her face is distant her, voice is subtle. Her memories are the repetition of years gone and years I was not around. I have grown, maybe that is it? Oh but no, for I can see it in her eyes, slightly nervous, confused of my presence. Who is this man she may be thinking? As I stare at her as if she is a stranger as well. An awkward separation of two that were once close. How strange a mind can lose what was once a fondness for us both. Frail her bones her posture odd. Her appetite weak and her friends, her friends I don't think know they are friends. It is an odd place for me, for us to be. No common ground but the soft sounds of Christmas in the background. She sings and I see her humor and joy have mad...

A Man's Traveled Heart My Words Of Christmas The first snow, the bleaching of soil with gentle flakes. The swirling of rich aromas drift in the season of this moment. Music flourishes to the design of today. Memories float like the falling of snow, but sticking like a taste. Forgotten, but only till one comes upon it again. Smiles, cheerful sentiments, the ever sentimental decorating of it all. The thumping of young hearts rushing through homes. Splurging in the imagination of what has been given. As the matured converse in the fond memories of it. Laughing in the taste of spirits, the embracing of today. Chest nuts roast in complimentary trace of eggnog and roast. As laughter dances in the exhaustion of voice. But no memory becomes forgotten in this day. The sun shines in a gentle tone behind the powered sky. The breath of winter settles briskly upon nature as birds chirp in the silence of the cold. Nature, settled in white, brings a whole new life. Caked with thoug...