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The Five Senses MAG
The Five Senses
Hats made of silken felt, the family bible with its pages worn,
Sits solitary on an unsturdy shelf, collecting dust.
Perfume bottles, Cologne cases, scents to trigger familiar faces.
Pictures taken in black and white,
In a world before my birth;
Grandparents photographed, Young and Spry
In Courtship days of yester years.
Do you hear the haunting voice of a 1930's youth?
Wedding Announcements, Obituaries, records to chart a Family Tree.
The beginnings of human progeny, the start of a family lineage,
The recognition of generations spent, living out life's meandering trail,
Captured on decaying paper, parched by the passage of time.
Names and Dates recorded in pencil and pen faded away old memories,
Becoming lost faint tragedies, personal history thrown off.
Closets emptied, a home now barren.
I can taste the bread you used to bake.
I look on as they give up, and await the final curtain call.
Why can't they see our strengths and help me save you before your time has come.
Miraculous things in fact await!!
The only prerequisite is an open mind, a loving thought.
by P. C., Stoughton, MA