Bottles of Memories

My memories and how I perceive them on my shelf....

Like a liqueur cabinet filled wet bar,

My memories sit cleanly in glass jar.

One of a horse lady well in to riding,

Next a Spanish decent I was hiding.

After the turmoil came a blue eyed,

Soon just after a Jersey love I cried.

Then came the many lost be the souls,

Moments in time placed bottles holes.

Then a dark one who gave me hell,

Another came forward but I wont tell.

Now my shelf gleams bottles of past,

At least I remember what I drank last.