 |
Memory is like Autumn,
slipping quietly into the corners of the mind,
turning green thoughts into amber and gold,
folding laughter and sorrow together
like leaves drifting over forgotten paths.
It carries the scent of rain-soaked earth,
of fading flowers, of a fire’s last warmth,
and lingers in the spaces between moments,
where smiles once lived and voices once called.
Some memories fall softly,
like the first leaf of the season,
touching the heart gently,
a whisper of who we were,
and who we might have been.
Others whirl in gusts,
stirring storms inside the chest,
twisting joy and pain together,
until we are left holding fragments,
precious and fragile,
like frost-covered leaves in the morning sun.
Memory is like Autumn,
beautiful, fleeting, and inevitable,
a season that reminds us
that even endings carry a quiet kind of light,
and hints at Winter yet to come,
where the world waits in silence
under soft blankets of snow,
and hearts brace for the cold,
holding on to the warmth of what has passed.
Comments
Post a Comment