Saturday, February 27, 2010

Voices From the Yesteryear

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)


The old homestead still stands,
'thou no longer in its prime;
surrounded by memories of old.
But the band of tension is tighter,
as strong fingers of the past
grip firmly around the present.

Memories never completely die
as long as there is one to remember,
they only fade with time,
waiting …
waiting for a sight or scent or touch
to pull the past forward again.

Reminiscences are fickle things
floating in and out at will,
flashing back in retrospect
as the subconscious tries to catch up;
they can haunt one's mind with flights of fancy,
or drag them back to the pits of despair.

Voices from the yesteryear whispers through the mind,
carefully writing the essay of life,
registering the extraordinary occurrences,
but monographing the ordinary as well.
Pulling back the sleeve of time
to connect the past with the living.

Memories are a reminder of mortality
the proof we all must face,
verifying the times gone by
like suspicions on the wind;
and nostalgia promises a keepsake,
calling out with tokens from the past.

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