AUTUMN BLOG
Poem by Rod McKuen – Stanyan Street, 4
There are those times when I’m not sure
there was ever a house on Stanyan Street.
That house, like that long gone love
fades, too, sometimes.
One doesn’t think to photograph the now when you’re convinced it lasts.
But real it was and is.
And reality for some of us
is only those things done
or thought done
and well remembered.
This was one of my Mom’s favorite poems, she loved Rod McKuen’s poetry books, so my sisters and I grew up with the same appreciation. We read it at Mom and Dad’s funeral and Les has committed it to memory.
As summer fades into fall, for me it is a time of reflection and remembering. I remember these childhood memories of books well read, music well sung and yes, poems, well remembered.
