Photography And Half-Thoughts By Mitchell Hegman

...because some of it is pretty and some of it is not.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

The Worst Disease

She’s lost between pages,
her words swept away by the forgetting disease.
Highways hang from her neck like heavy scarves.
Rivers stop cold at her feet.

“One can forget an umbrella,” she used to say,
“and still go walking in the rain.  You’ll just get wet.”

Now she’s misplaced her own name
and she’s at a dark window looking in.
The wet socks in her hand confuse her.
If only she could recall why she’s on the run
in this world filled with strangers.

--Mitchell Hegman