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Stepping On A Memory
Folder:
Concrete-Make Their Own Shape Once we walked
here side by side
into the future we
had planned. You
with your memories of no
love at all, and me with my
love for ONE MAN. Now
you are gone, but your
Memory lives on, and I strive to keep
climbing this stair. Someday there will
be a real love for Me. A man who truly
will care. I hope as this evening draws
To a close that you might be thinking of me. And
maybe at times you think back to find that you
played a fool leaving me. It's hard on some days to
Remember the way you promised those things
never kept. But that's OK too, for thinking of you has made me
quite proud of myself. I may not be your pick of life's little gifts,
but I know the thing that you lost, was a love bright and new,
a heart that was true, and gold that you traded for dross.
TIME does not change all things;
somethings are un-changable, you know.
There are words that went to one heart
from one other, unbidden, and lodged forever.
No-one can choose our friends for us;
no-one should take our friends away.
What we live with is our treasure;
one claims one, another claims another.
One should not delete a heart from it case:
there is care enough in this chilly existence
not to make it even colder over alphabet soup.
A chosen treasure is always a treasure
no matter why or how it got reclaimed.
One may choose ultimate choices in life,
then expect many other things to fall in place,
but chance is not fair, and fair is not chance;
Love and true Hope were not born to die;
neither can be killed, only ignored - -
which, after all, is the ultimate indignity.
We need extreme care so as not to step on a memory,
and therefore accidentally make ourselves lonely.
My memories are also lovely, of you.
"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !