Memories
[I don’t especially like this poem I wrote, but I ran it by
some “friendly critics,” and they liked it, so here it is.]
Memories keep coming back —
My sins and failures of the past,
But, thankfully, the Lord was there —
To keep accusing — the Devil won’t dare.
Memories of friends that died,
Others, that I left behind —
Physic’ly, or in my mind.
Sometimes, perhaps, I was not kind.
Others left me at different times —
I didn’t know with my small mind
The reasons that would cause these rifts —
Perhaps they were a painful gift.
So many awkward, embarrassing scenes —
I almost have them in my dreams.
Still, better just to have a laugh
Than dwell upon a jumbled past.
Well, what’s a life without some pain?
Without it, some say, there is no gain.
And with a painful lesson learned
The joy that’s birthed is fully earned.
clarakatalin 