A lovebird's memories of the past are evoked for a moment.

(Please note that Coolaaron and I decided mutually to both write a poem with this title, though they are otherwise unrelated.)


The Miracle of Memory

Oh, but the miracle of memory!
For I cannot resist but to take a peek into those days gone by—
and a peek more,
a moment stalled,
until I'm head-over-heels in lost times.
Times...
It is as fresh in my mind as ever...
all of it.
Here is a thing, and there its friend, all is as I remembered it.
It is perfect.
And her.
She is as perfect as I remember her.

It was years ago—
lives ago, it seems,
whole lives ago when last I gazed into her eyes, and saw
something I had not seen before.
It was through her eyes—
in her spirit, in her soul, that I discovered
what I had been wanting.
And that was the miracle of the whole thing:
that the whole world,
her whole world,
was preserved perfectly, in my own memories.
And even now, even today,
(with all that has changed!) I still look back,
see her smiling face,
hear her winking,
and am taken back into the past.
Oh, but the miracle of memory.



Poetry by Wehpudicabok
Read 734 times
Written on 2006-08-20 at 06:31

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