So many say you can’t go back and feel the way it was-
I listen with a hidden grin inside my heart because
Those moments are a part of me I never would let go-
A photographic heart inside in case you didn’t know.
So many leave impressions that they never would believe-
While hearts keep beating thank you notes they never will receive.
Just know that if it happened- it’s a memory I keep-
And dreams don’t die the way we do- they only sometimes sleep.
Smiles and laughter sprinkle life and feed our sleeping dreams-
The memories inside my heart are multicolored beams
That shine somewhere in Heaven on a place that feels like home.
I try to speak the feelings and they give another poem.
I see you as if yesterday- and nothing’s changed at all-
As long as there’s a place to land it’s better off to fall
And find someone beside you who has always been a song
Somewhere in time you did not know was with you all along.
For those of us who have good memories, is important for us to write down what we remember. For part of the chronicle of the twentieth century will not be all of the major news stories, but what ordinary people were doing during their lives. All of this information useful when future historians look back at that century and label it good or bad.
From your poem, I would say that you are remembering the good times. I'm the same way. I find that much of my youth innocent, but aware of bad things around me that didn't affect me for various reasons that I'm grateful for. In the meantime those wonderful memories are busy being chronicled by me, so if nothing else, my future relatives can look back and see exactly how I lived, loved, prospered and declined.
John: This poem soars into a realm and mood I've never known, and it takes me to places I've never visited before. The Poetry of Love eludes so many of us because we haven't the capacity to speak its language, to know how to navigate its waters, and to reach out and touch its soul. You have done all that and more with daring, grace, and style. Now I'm speechless.
Nobleman's son, Todd Ramble, returns home after years abroad and finds himself falling in love with his step-sister, who was now a grown woman. Unfortunately their love is brutally challenged by his tyrannical father.
An intern architect at Ryan and Associates, Mateo Diaz has spent the last year learning his craft under the tutelage of partner Alex Ryan. Alex is the closest thing to family that Mateo has known since losing his own family years ago. But not even Al
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From your poem, I would say that you are remembering the good times. I'm the same way. I find that much of my youth innocent, but aware of bad things around me that didn't affect me for various reasons that I'm grateful for. In the meantime those wonderful memories are busy being chronicled by me, so if nothing else, my future relatives can look back and see exactly how I lived, loved, prospered and declined.
Ron