its just a memory
but so alive
a swirl of cotton
white. green bordered
soft warm skin
crinkled. wrinkled. white and pink
warm drinks and brandy
swapped escapades and memories
stories. of my beginning
yours.and journeys. one for every hour of day
stories of the beginnings of love
ours. yours. mine
talks. philosophy. logic. religion
lessons. how to walk. talk.live life
stars. moons. gentle warm sunshine
battles. tears. laughter
childhood troubles and worries
slowly growing up
all sorted, aired and put away
in your little black box
but its just a memory
and you're so dead
its that time of the year
to remember you
look at my body
and wonder at how you made it from yours
look at my yesterdays
and how you took me in
see how i've grown mamma
come back home again
Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!
Saturday, September 30, 2006
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September
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4 comments:
it seems to sweet and full of childlike memories until the last bit which is so very sad and yet still so childlike.
:)
This is lovely, Prerona.
Thanks lj :)
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