Thursday, October 27, 2011


Rain came and left some puddles
here, there, and everywhere
like a catchment area
for light to dance upon.

The wind rose up to make it be
alive and energized
and I watched it move like I would
in the arms of my adored.

I knew soon it would be gone
but there’s beauty in a memory
if filed within a safe place
protected from abuse.

But I can and know I do
abuse my memories
with the  tears of one dismayed
that all things fade away.

And then there comes a time
when I love my memories
and I rock them like a baby
held in a mother’s arms.

Rock/goodbye, rock/goodbye.
how strange to be loved/abused,
and yet it happens, yes, it does.
until … puddles stay forever!


  1. "I knew it would soon be gone, but there's beauty in a memory, if filled within a safe place, protected from abuse".

    The standout stanza for me. Profound and filled with emotion, truly evokes that sense of fragility and value of our memories.

    Your poetic expressions are priceless, Helen. Thank you for blessing with your gift.


  2. Thank you, Titus, for reading and for leaving such a supportive comment. Such a lot to see and think about in this world of ours.