I WAKE UP ONE MORNING.
THE DAY BEFORE IS GONE, A MEMORY.
YEARS PASS, MORE AND MORE MEMORIES.
GOOD, AND BAD.
AN INFINITE SPACE WITHIN THE SOUL,
IN WHICH ALL YOUR MEMORIES STAY,MOTIONLESS,WAITING TO BE STIRRED.
SOME CLEAR AS YESTERDAY, SOME DIFFICULT TO BRING BACK, LIKE A DREAM.
I LAY IN BED THAT NIGHT, WONDERING WHAT WAS NOW A MYSTERY, AND WHAT WOULD IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, BE HISTORY.
THE DAY BEFORE IS GONE, A MEMORY.
YEARS PASS, MORE AND MORE MEMORIES.
GOOD, AND BAD.
AN INFINITE SPACE WITHIN THE SOUL,
IN WHICH ALL YOUR MEMORIES STAY,MOTIONLESS,WAITING TO BE STIRRED.
SOME CLEAR AS YESTERDAY, SOME DIFFICULT TO BRING BACK, LIKE A DREAM.
I LAY IN BED THAT NIGHT, WONDERING WHAT WAS NOW A MYSTERY, AND WHAT WOULD IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, BE HISTORY.
- E.B. Pointy-Pen's blog
- Sprout
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Treblemaker
Mar 18, 2020
I love this piece, it made me think, and I like the font, somehow I think it adds character. Like when you talk to yourself in your head and its italicized. great piece! -Also welcome to YWP!
I write because the music of language spoke to me in books and I wanted to make a beautiful noise to answer back ~ Lee Williams.