Reflected Memories
Reflected memories
Blast the words of conceptions past
Lost to time and place,
Blast the thoughts when memories fade
Into our sadder days,
For came a horse, its saddle turned
Carrying a fragment of our dreams,
And softly blows a bugles call
Then slowly slips away
Blast the silence, no voices call
In the sounds that we conceive,
And blast the hope as visions die
When we consider images perceived;
But slowly rolls this wheeled cart
Past one child’s lost salute,
While listen I the mournful cry
That slowly slips away
Blast the mystery to question why
Our memories fade with time,
Blast the sound of a bugles call
On that warm November day,
Yet now is held the twilights light,
Over flames that never die,
And quiet sound the winds of fait
That slowly slips away
(In Memory of JFK)
By m.norton.
[email protected]
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