Memories are dreamy things.
Wrought with displeasure,
Over things best forgot,
Or hard to remember,
Things that are not.
Some are childish things,
Timeless kinds of imaginings.
Some are loving things,
Where our souls feeling springs.
Memories are where our love dreams,
With timeless endearing gentle things.
Memories are also personal things.
Reflections of our separate wanderings.
...and perhaps memories are also our dreams.
Isn't it a wonder that we all have our own memories? What a thing!
Written March 5th, 2004