Brush of Time
Sad memories
jagged like stones
pierce through the air
like bullets
Traveling fast
they keep making fresh wounds...
reloading to aim at
my spirit
And for many strange reasons....
whenever they come
I want to remember the burn
The feel of the moment, opens the skin
over and over again....
I reach out my hand, to catch them mid air...
to slow down the speed
keeping them near
to keep them alive...
to thrive in a box
like old friends....
But they travel too fast.....
I cannot catch them all....
And with each rushing year.....there is less of the sting
I just feel the brush of the wind....
And, I wonder at times,....
just why is it so...
so hard to let go
of the pain?
__________________________________________________________________
Submitted for Contest "Bite of the Cherry"
Sponsor: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
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