My memories are souvenirs,

collected over many years;

some good, some bad, some sadly lost,

and some that came with such a cost;

a lifetime’s worth of hopes and fears.

 

Old love affairs ending in tears,

like heartbreak tales by balladeers;

the highs and lows that have criss-crossed

my souvenirs.

 

Yet in my dreams a voice appears

that sings like music to my ears,

so firmly on my heart embossed

a face that never will exhaust,

for it transcends and domineers

my souvenirs.