These memories lay neatly placed in my mind,
As if they were coins in a Fenton bowl from past eras.
I take notice of my age,
Those things to which I took for-granted would always be here.
Little girls in trick or treat costumes,
Ballet shoes and deep belly laughs.
Those warm faucet tears on your first day of school,
Have left like the seasons we lack to appreciate.
A life of thunderstorms and blizzards,
Just to get to tomorrow.
Little wet kindergarten kisses,
A dirty little hand that pushes your hair from your eyes,
Just so they can see your face.
So they can read your eyes.
Those memories in that marigold dish, I long to pick up,
To relive one more time.
Yet, they are merely antiques of a moment,
In order to just reach another day.
Forgetting the moment of now.