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Memories
July 22, 2010
A flock of doves
Suspended in midair.
A polished hardwood floor
Glossy, gleaming,
A bit too bare.
A set of eyes
Frozen in distress.
A ship long sunk,
Its grand bow
Facing forever west.
Tales of worlds,
Tales of lives,
Tales of long-gone
Places and times.
How do these images continue
How do their melodies still play
When the realms of our very world seem to change
With every passing dawn and day?
Thank your God for memories
Visions of faraway lands
Draped in layers of yellow and dust
Held by a wistful hand.
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