Remembrances

Remembrances Are they just pieces cluttered around? The letters in the box, the dried roses in one of the pages of my favorite books. They all seem, are going along with me like waves unknowingly push the detritus into the bed shore and bring them back again to the bosom of the ocean.. There, they float unnamed, untagged Rain comes, shatters their wraps Storm tears them apart, exposed I lift every meaning of them, cry every dent of pain, fix every chip of attachment. I rather, them be placed in the corner where no one dares to visit and shove them away to the farthest part of my drawer and labeled, ''not significant." But how? When their paces keep me up as fast as I want to escape, as slow as the time ticks to leave them behind.. When the red ribbon that binds them, peeks through the whiteness of forgetting.. And here I am tracing back what these remembrances have to say, spreading on the table of choices, to dwell or to let go This, I am yet to consider...