Moments In Time
Memories store moments in time,
from the mundane to the sublime
replayed in silent pantomime:
within my mind.
I can recall leaning to crawl,
and how I would stumble and fall
banging my noggin on the wall;
as a toddler.
I remember some hurtful things,
like beatings or bumblebee stings
that draws tears, tugging at heartstrings;
from shadows past.
But I prefer snapshots of joy:
like when I was a little boy
and Santa would bring me a toy,
on Christmas morn.
I'd shimmy up trees way back then
when I was maybe nine or ten;
before I joined the world of men,
I loved the woods.
A storehouse for hyperbole
memories blur reality:
and so they cannot guarantee
accuracy.
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