Some may think of memories
Only covered in dust with
Pages fading into opaque forgetting
But memory doesn’t have to work like that
And if our honesty
Does not blur and fade
We find our memory
In shards of talk
In whispers and glimpses
You see, memory is a meal
Savory…bitter…sweet…salty
And water to cleanse the tongue
We make our memory
In shards of talk
“Remember that time…?”
It’s a very unique thought, lovely!
Thanks!!!
I am grateful for your comment, especially on my first poem. I felt supported and that carried me through the day. Thank you so much
love this
Thanks so much!
LOVE THIS! You came out swinging and hit a home run! I am looking forward to your other pieces. Before the day is through I will hit them all. (Although now I have MJ in my head as an earworm).
Lovely piece
Your support certainly helped carry me through the marathon. I’m grateful for you
We make our memories in shards of thoughts! Great title – The Archivist and not The Archive, further hitting upon the poem’s theme of the personal construct of memory. Bravo!
*big smile*…thank you