Poetry Blogs (memories)

They never changed that room.
Dolls, teddy bears, trains,
And transformers all hold space,
Lock time in perpetual stasis.
When death comes life stops.

Family said they should pack
Things away. It’s too hard
To be reminded day after day
Of a future lost in the past,
But a room can be a memorial.

It’s a museum of childhood,
Until a child of a later
Generation discovers it with
Glee....

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Through the kitchen, down the hall, in the last room on the left. There's a box in the closet. Small and square, behind some sweaters. Safe in a quiet place, yet always on my mind...

More than just a trinket, it's like an amulet

For when I hold it in my hands, my head and heart forget.

A talisman of testimony, to what was once so true

This tiny little object that makes me think of...

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The trees still sentinel stood

their green leaves whispering

rustling gently in the wood

in the same soft breeze

and I know some summer birds

sang in their canopy

a requiem without words

'neath the same blue sky

that through every passing year

quietly watched over me

safe within Ceredig's sphere

It has been too long a time

since our firs...

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hide and seek

one thousand and one

one thousand and

my head pressed against the bark

on the tree by the pond side

where the ducks quack back

at the boy with the ball

whose dreams are

not yet fully formed

two one thousand and three

one thou

sat by the brown muddy water

with schoolbooks spilling from bags

a kiss on the cheek

and we carve ...

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When i look into your eyes 

I know your still there somewhere inside 

And as each passing day 

Goes by I know another part of your memory dies 

But you won't remember the goodbyes and it's hard not to sit here and cry 

Because your trapped inside 

All The confusion the conclusion

That your drifting away 

Well  I know  that ships don’t stay long at bay 

And will soon be h...

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Walking hand in hand

Your seven.

Wide eyes.

Big world.

Small warm hand

Reaches for and

Buries in my paw.

Mans hand, callouses and oil.

But still fists full of love.

Protection and love.

We kick leaves.

High

Golds and reds.

Asphalt coated

In browns and beauty.

The leaves fly up

Whirl and flow

Swirling

Unplanned patterns.

Stick to our shoes

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