Wrapped so snugly
In the hands of time
It is but memory
Its taste sublime
Down by the river
On scented air
Wisping days
Now in disarray.
The roads that lead
A crossroad brings
Its marbled choice
With glittered wings
At each turn
Right or left
The wrong step
Leaves bereft.
The majesty of
The rising sun
Brings new day
Its life begun
As new shoots in
Springtimes colour
Bad memories
We attempt to smother.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2026 12:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
- Users favorite of this poem: marissa, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
A fine write N.
But at each turn of the road, or lane, or track, that we may take - no bus! lol.
I might set up my own bus company with the motto ( WE SOMETIMES TURN UP) lol
Oh lol.
Focusing on the good to forget the bad is not necessarily a bad thing. A positive point of view a key to happiness. Well written
thanks for reading always appreciated
My pleasure Norman
I love your poem
most kind, thanking you always much appreciated
But the good memories are there Norman.
Andy
That is the message, thanks for read much appreciated my friend
Norman, what a thoughtful piece. The journey from memory, to choice, to renewal feels natural and earned. We all carry things we'd rather leave behind, yet each sunrise offers another chance to grow beyond them. There is real hope woven into this one, my friend. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, thanking you and much appreciated
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