Photo to Poem

In times of joy or sorrow’s strife
I take a walk back through my life,
and in my hand a ring of keys
that open doors on memories.
Behind each door a treasured time -
a high school dance, a nursery rhyme,
one special friend, a happy day
with loved ones lost along the way.

These visits soothe and bring a smile
and so I linger for a while -
a stolen glance, new store-bought dress,
soft words of love, a warm caress,
the wondrous things that went before
are safely stored behind each door.

My keys are many, both large and small
but I can’t do without them all.
The ring grows larger each passing day
as I progress along life’s way.
Each opened lock is pleasure gained
which tempers sorrow and eases pain
My life is made of memories -
I am not burdened carrying keys.

Sometimes
he sits in the great black chair
staring at the past
squinting
trying to make out
the shadowy participants
in his own history
But sometimes
he just sits.

S itting

H olding

A nother

D rink

O f

W ater

S pirits.

alone with his thoughts
remembering spent youth
sweeter than the taste of Coca Cola
fizzing on the tongue
riding bikes with no hands
and the ace of spades in the spokes
playing Red Rover til supper
with friends on the block
it wasn't called a 'hood' then --
those carefree days
of easy laughter
so little appreciated
when the goal was to grow up
but not old
he recalls the boy
he once was

Why is that pup
pooping in my
petunias?

I give up
the garden can
go to .....

Son, where's
the shovel?

whimsy has danced
her last dance
vanished
into a past
that seems to belong
to someone else

she's stolen secrets
that have faded from memory
carried them off
to destinations unknown

the only thing
she's left behind -
the eerie feeling
of remorse