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Memories

Aleksandra Kovrlija Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Memories which was written by poet Aleksandra Kovrlija. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Memories

When I was a child, I was a princess
Who lived in a beautiful castle,
Surrounded by woods and fields
This not true, of course, but that is
How I chose to remember it, to celebrate it,
That is how I chose to put it down
To describe my growing up
I would have to show you 
The stork`s nest on the roof of our house
To describe  my growing up
I would have to take you
To the field on a summer day
And I would say, Breathe deeply-
And you would breathe and remember
That scent for the rest of your life
The bold, rich aroma of fruit trees, 
Wheat and corn, the scent of air,
A fragrance like baby animals,
A new milk and a spilled wine,
All perfumed with wild flowers
To describe my growing up
I would have to take you
To our garden on a summer day
There were carpets of flowers,
And vines climbing the white lattice
Of the arbor and a small shed
Where I used to hunt for hidden treasures 
I was the princess of the summer
And sometimes I would wonder
Past the boundary of the garden
At the dusky end of day
We sang after dinner, silly songs
On the porch swing, the sky grew dark
And fireflies blinked on and off
When I speak of my childhood,
It seems part elegy, part nightmare
But I want to talk only about the elegy
I don`t want to go into deeper waters
Where all the bones and wreckage
Wait for my unwilling scrutiny
Time can be generous
For it allows us to forget our nightmares
Time can be kind
For it allows us to forgive the people
Who had hurt us
When I think about my childhood,
My soul gazes like a lamb
On the beauty of tenderness
And I want to forget everything
That was evil and bad-
I want to see the world
Through a dazzling prism
Of my imagination 
I have preserved 
The multiform appearances
Of my life as a little girl,
The portraits and still life
Visible through the blooming
Window of time
Time can be charitable
Because it smoothes away the roughness,
Erases the crooked lines
And our old memories 
Are wrapped in glory

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