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Poem

"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"      John Ruskin, 1853

It was just another memory
 the aftermath of time and life in brevity,
recovered in the dreams of night
 slipping on the imagery of true delights
where two lives lay quietly subdued
 holding tight to leftover pieces of me and you.

Some of those memories liveon  in bliss
 easily tucked away in destiny's first kiss
held fast like a first unexpected experience shared
 was it a hit or miss when we paired?
Now, as time has marked our years
 who was the first to cry love's tears?

That first encounter was just my arrogance and pride
 in retrospect I see,  how well I lied
I said I didn't like you and you were just being kind
 but your touch clouded my soul and mind,
those little occurrences that too easily slipped
 reasured all was well lived as my wings were being clipped.

Pressed in the photo album,  notes and pictures underscored
 the pictures faded and blurry but still endures
with rose petals brittle, dried and brown
 apologies of when I so often played the clown
kept safe and secure, each memories are retained,
 only now, can I measure, everything we've gained.

The cards that said I love you
 the notes that we'd get through,
a lock from our child's hair
 the first report card with an A 
petals from her wedding day, 
 a dried tear from when she went away.

These are the memories that together we recall
 when you and I had given it our all
the joy, the laughter, the sadness and the tears
 scattered melodies of our rhythms seered
in life experiences no longer here,
 sleep restfully, every dream can still be near.

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