Little dream tangents from
times and places remembered.
Like lover’s first kiss,
or the first shot the young player
made in the basket.
From birth to death, these things
are the only things connected to
something pure.
Can they be cruel and abrasive?
Shockingly horrible like a unwanted
touch or wound that won’t heal?
Yes. Yes.
More yes.
These little pieces of ourselves,
can harbor bad and good,
worst and best.
Is that why we hold on to
things that remain remember
and cured with fires that show
us a way to time travel?
Memories are almost as beautiful
and frightening as dreams.
Almost.