Brian Koester

When the rains set in again they make me remember.
Their breath takes over mine to stay and remember. 

Absent voices swirl half-gilded in the pale
light. With reluctance, for their sake I remember. 

Now that the kids have moved on to redder skies,
do they think it’s worth the time it takes to remember? 

Old feeling phosphoresces from the walls.
The people have faded, but it’s almost the same to remember. 

Brian, let the stories recede out of sight.
It shouldn’t bring you down in flames to remember.