Baked Into Memory/Clark Halls

Won’t you come sit with me again?
The oven is cold and the game is solitaire.
The grass grows unbounded,
And you left us lost, cut-up in the blades.
At the bottom of the rock, the morning dew weighs down,
My mind caught in the droplets—suspended animation.

Lemons pepper the air,
Breathing life into the polished tabletops,
As they pledge to preserve the memories entrapped within the lacquer.
The mahogany is as silky as the molasses we mix.
That reminds me…

“Grandma, the cookies are done!”
The shrill bell of the timer rings so sweetly in my ears,
Sweeter than the cocoa crumbs on my lips.
The dough is ripped, torn from the baking sheet.
Still tender, it should have stayed in the oven longer.
Why did you go so soon? Won’t you come sit with me again?

Among the trees, 
Our bikes stand as metal markers in the soil.
In harmony with the finch’s chirp, 
Our stones patter along the creek,
Only to sink under the murky water.
I know the rock will succumb to gravity.
I know this, but the heartbreak in its disappearance prevails.

That is when you place my hand in your palm and tell me,
“Never let sadness be victorious.
Smile and revel in the beauty of this life.”
That was then.

Now, this day, the grass is a glorious green, once again.
The morning dew is of delightful clarity, once again.
The oven is warm with the scent of cookies, once again.
The cards glide across the mahogany, once again.
The cocoa crumbs cling to my family’s smiling lips, once again.
I am elated, thinking of you,
Once again.

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Clark Halls, a biology and communication major, takes great interest and inspiration in the beauty of nature. Intertwined with environmental scenery and ideas regarding the clash between mankind and Mother Nature, this poem was written in a spontaneous manner so as to capture the wide range of emotions one may experience from one moment to another. When not admiring the bright foliage and running waters of campus, Clark is at home traversing the forests outside of Chicago, Illinois.