-- The Rough Edges of Memory --

John Herlihy

Time sands down the rough edges of our memory;

What really happened takes on an air of mystery.

I recall childhood and wonder who was this child;

Tongue-tied and shy, two older brothers ran wild.

Much that happened has disappeared in the mist;

Poignant memories still clear make up a short list.

Not a matter of choice, they have a will of their own;

If the soul has threads, they are into its fabric sewn.

Bad memories linger, always painful to recollect;

Good memories linger, with power to resurrect.

The bad memories return in flashes,  and I stare;

The good memories return in flashes I gladly bear.

Finally, the rough edges of memory turn smooth;

Their fleeting message can restless hearts soothe.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Saturday 20 February 2021