Recorded Minutes
I find my memories, to be
a collection of convoluted excursions
from every moment lived out of place and time
like the handprint of Paleolithic Art
that says... I was there
Could that my memories be manufactured
and not lived, how different they would be
With the changing shadows of age
I claim nothing more or less
then the recorded minutes
that reveal the arrogance
in black and white pictures
glued together by mold and mildew
saved in my junkyard of yesterday's rusty relics
as though they were jewels
stored for whatever reason
I remind myself...one day
I must get rid of them
10/4/19
contest My Favorite Junkyard
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2019
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