Upon the rocks of Chester Creek

I am made of a man
I know nothing about

a man I barely recall
from when I was three.

no letters, no pictures
nothing, but
the memories of young hippies

in their time of love, peace
and civil fights.

they remember his smarts,
the curls upon his head
and the laughter he brought.

I remember, nothing
until the night I gifted myself
a memory/a keepsake
of the man I look so much like.

I dreamed we watched
water tumble
down
the rocks of Chester Creek,

side by side
we stood as the warmth
left his fading shadow
marking our time done,
a lifetime lost forever.

©River 2013

written for prompt
Free Write Friday 3/22

care for a reading