MEMORIES

I try to hold on to very little,

Possessions have no lasting value.

It’s the memories that seem to linger,

But not for long and only for a while.

What happened to all those dreams,

Some turned into unexpected realities.

Others stayed in the clouds, never realized,

Tempting us to make more mistakes.

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Memories can be rough companions,

They shake us up and throw us about.

Whether it be the thrill of happiness,

Or the throes of a deep sorrow.

They touch us, they hold on,

Only to give back what we in life borrow.

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Memories have a way of fading on their own,

To become fog, then mist, then wind-blown.

Life is a fire that burns brightly,

A fire that burns down to ash.

In the end, death, standing as sentry,

Walks away with everyone’s memory.

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Gone, puff, as if no longer reckoned;

Gone, puff, as if they never happened.

(c) John Herlihy November 2018