Dust From the Past

Dust From the Past They aren’t all bad, these dusty memories, my mind sees fit to retain. Where they all stay hidden, you see, is not for me to explain. Some are just like static shocking me sharply into pleasant scenes while others are like the stove hood greased over so the memory clings. Some appear quite often and others not often enough. Some bring a smile to this old face but for some the remembrance is tough. They must collect like errant dust trapped awaiting brain's nerves to synapse or perhaps they wait for a dusting thought to collect them in hearts relapse?