memories — poem

by billgncs

at the end of the day, what is a man bereft of memories…

memories, browning leaves so tenuously cling
to branch but rattle amidst the breeze
as if to say, I was here, mark my presence
lest I am forever gone

How glorious the shade of summer
where we kicked off our shoes and
danced and lived protected from the sun
and hard harsh illumination

but autumn deepens as does night
and one by one they drift away
released floating just beyond our grasp
what shelter from a barren tree

2 Comments to “memories — poem”

  1. I go to a home where people have no memories left at all, life has taken all their life long memories from them.

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