Reflected memories

Written by: Mark Norton

                                     Reflected memories

      Blast the words of conceptions past                  
      Lost to time and place,
      Blast the thoughts when memories fade   
      Into our sadder days,
      For came a horse, its saddle turned
      Carrying a fragment of our dreams,
      And softly blows a bugles call
      Then slowly slips away
      Blast the silence, no voices call
      In the sounds that we conceive,
      And blast the hope as visions die 
      When we consider images perceived;
      But slowly rolls this wheeled cart
      Past one child’s lost salute,
      While listen I the mournful cry
      That slowly slips away

      Blast the mystery to question why
      Our memories fade with time,
      Blast the sound of a bugles call
      On that warm November day,
      Yet now is held the twilights light,
      Over flames that never die,
      And quiet sound the winds of fait
      That slowly slips away

(In Memory of JFK)