Moments In Time
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Memories store moments in time,
from devastating to sublime
replayed in silent pantomime;
only I see.
I see myself leaning to crawl,
smiling when I'd stumble and fall
and bang my nogin on the wall;
as a toddler.
I sometimes recall hurtful things,
like beatings or bumblebee stings
that draw tears, tugging my heartstrings;
from shadows past.
But I prefer snapshots of joy,
like when I was a little boy
and Santa brought me a new toy;
on Christmas morn.
I'd shimmy up trees way back then
before I joined the world of men,
when I was maybe nine or ten;
I loved the woods.
A storehouse for hyperbole,
memories script reality.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2022
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