Wood table and chair, probably from the 1940's, heavy with lead based paint, once vacant white in days of viable family farm, now become a tree ring history of dir grease and dirt smudged grey... In a tired room shanty, down an unpaved and near forgotten lane Where a tawdry petticoat curtain tents and then goes slack according to the breeze Outside, the cottonwoods grew without being plants for the river is near Leaves now turned aggressive yellow, devoid of chlorophyll, crisp slapping a-shimmer, catching October gustings The sort of backwater neighborhood that is ignored in deference to supposedly better days Sadly friendly from neglect, as empires overextend on their way to the destiny of each and every grain that was swollen with sunlight and rain A refugee holdout of sanities that will never prevail A cobbler's lament about a trail too friendly tobe be allowed a recommendation for travel Free of asphalt and no longer a fresh pathway deserving of gravel A decadent and shabby shrine to happy complicities, too honest for a pretense of carrying the day And winter wont stay (Written in Colorado Jave Coffee Shop, on Saturday, October 8,2005) Comment This poem was written, and I was quite pleased with the ease of the effort. However, I misplaced it, and thought it lost. Feeling failingly desolate, I decided to try and recreate the poem from mood and memory. The similarly titled poem that follows, "A Kicked- Back Salvation" was my best effort to reproduce the lost poem. Of course, I subsequently found "A Kick-Backed Salvation", and so both are printed. I would recommend to poets to try writing a piece, and then turn around and try to write it again from memory. I found it to be an instructive exercise.