Through Rose Colored Glasses

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I am a prisoner of memories from the past, Flashbacks without warning of a marriage that did not last. Through rose colored glasses, I see a love now scattered to the wind, But in reality he had ceased to be a husband, a lover, or even a friend. Memories lie and make you think your life together was ideal, They invade the heart, but are like ghosts, and are not real. It’s time to take off the rose colored glasses, and leave the past behind, Memories make bad bed fellows, and do not give peace of mind.

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Daniel Turner

Date: 6/17/2016 5:04:00 PM

This is an excellent poem, Brenda. Only, not all memories are bad ones, are they? I think we as humans for some reason, need to feel that our love was not in vain. It makes the bitterness easier to swallow.

Brenda Mcgrath
Date: 6/17/2016 5:16:00 PM

Thanks Daniel.

Brenda Mcgrath
Date: 6/17/2016 5:13:00 PM

No they aren't bad, most of them are happy. It just makes me sad.