MEMORYA Poem by Peter RogersonIdle thoughts after more than fifty years...MEMORY.
Memory wakes me up from time to time, He pokes me in the ribs in rhyme And shows me shadows from a past I thought back then would always last.
He makes me look into her eyes Those precious orbs that conceal lies, And touch the softness of her skin With gentle heartbeats deep within.
He takes me by a wrinkled hand And shows me that old fashioned land And then I wonder at the faded skies When I gaze upon her sleeping eyes
And hold her hair, each wispy tress Brushing on a long forgotten dress, And would we do it? Would we dare In days when careful folk too care?
And then it came, the broken heart, The sudden drifting far apart, And now and then I wonder if today She walks abroad, or passed away...
For has she let the thread of going Fall to the graveyard without me knowing? And all that’s left of magic days Are in the scenes of memory’s plays…
© Peter Rogerson 10.04.20 © 2020 Peter Rogerson |
StatsAuthorPeter RogersonMansfield, Nottinghamshire, United KingdomAboutI am 80 years old, but as a single dad with four children that I had sole responsibility for I found myself driving insanity away by writing. At first it was short stories (all lost now, unfortunately.. more..Writing
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