These — our memories
Are all that’s left of the past.
No, we can’t go back.
It’s that time of year again — cold and raining. And the thoughts that crossed my mind last year, surfaced again this year as I walked by the lake and felt the cold wind on my skin.
Funny how such ordinary things as the rustling of leaves, the breeze on one’s skin, the chirping of birds can bring back a flood of memories — all those feelings from years ago come back and seem so fresh. Yet, you are brought back to reality as soon as you tell yourself, “That was then, this is now. And now you are wasting time and energy thinking about it.”
My best friend has told me many times I think too much of the past, that the future is more important. Maybe so.
But one has no control over what comes to mind, or does one? I can shake off thoughts that come to mind, but there is no way I can stop these thoughts from entering my mind. Even saying, “I will not think about it,” is proof that I AM thinking about it.
Walking in the winter rain does this to me all the time — full of drama in the head. But this too shall pass.
Hope you have a lovelier weather than what I have in my neck of the woods.
Have a wonderful week!
This canopy of leaves
under which we lie,
a shelter from all the fears and pains
this life has brought us…
This crown cover,
a silent witness
to our hopes and wishes
both spoken and unspoken…
Gives us this momentary comfort
from the torturous sun.
You stared blankly into space
As if looking at something
That only you could see.
Then you opened your mouth to speak
About old friends and the fun times you had with them
And how there was only peace among everyone
You said you wanted to go back to the old house
With the people you say were your real friends.
We wish we could give you what you want.
But the house has been gone for over half a century
And your friends’ tombstones have even faded
I wiped a tear away as I felt I was no longer in your memory.
But I braved myself to ask, “Do you know who I am?”
You turned to look at me and softly said my name,
And added, “My dearest child.”
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Words are to be lifted from the soul! Photograph’s are memories of the heart yet to unfold! Let’s begin!
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