Remember
I remember the rains – the first drops splashing on sun-warmed earth, the barefoot running through puddles, the laughter that rose higher than the thunder.
I remember the seashores – toes curling into wet sand, writing names that the tide stole away before I was ready to let them go.
I remember the carefreeness of childhood – days when time had no teeth, when joy was an instinct, not a decision.
Then came the in–between years, the half-caution of teenage steps – still daring, but with one eye on the edge. Learning the taste of limits. Feeling the weight of “what if” but moving anyway.
And now, in adulthood, they all come back — these scattered fragments, whole in their incompleteness.
Remember
Unseen
Unfelt
from time out of mind
auld lang syne
a song here,
a picture there,
a word spoken,
a memory in motion.
They tug at me
from the wedges
incised deeply
over the years —
cryptic,
enigmatic,
prejudicial,
mysterial.
Faded by seasons,
threadbare, sublime,
detached in diffident strains —
Yet. Somehow.
It remains.
Remember?