The wind is howling outside

I call this moment a frescoe....all colors and cracks against an aged wall that holds up a picture of which the intent is clear....and he sleeps through it all.... through the howling wind and the dancing figures stuck in time and the visage of a young woman kissing a young man passionately as if time will hold still forever. 

My son tells me that Stephen Hawking claims time travel would be possible if we had the technology, so in the wake and waking of its infinite impossibility I write and I can remember this moment, the piece of a ticking clock stilled by reinforced concrete and dried paint and what's that? maybe an escaped regret which is wasted emotion after all, but I'm human.  Someone told me once never to regret anything that made me smile.....interesting bit of denial there....as all the most regrettable moments had maybe half a smile attached somehow.  naturally.

It's nice though, the steady breathing of my family in the middle of the night while I turn to the frescoe and dream just a little, of yesterday.  mg