Sitting in a dusty room,
images running amok in my mind
I draw dusty circles in a faded mirror
trying to rewind.
And in my mind’s eye, the dusty room is like yesterday
when we held hands, and our innocence has not slipped away…
But there are spiders on the wall
and memories, they fall
and through the webs and through the cracks
they wane and wax
like faded jeans we wear them until they are gone.
And in the dusty circles on a faded mirror
I see in my mind’s eye your smile
and I know everything will be alright
and I let you go and you drift towards the light.
(c) 2011 Allen Simpson
memories should not be mourned, they should be fondly cherished.
A slightly reworked edition of the poem
Photo by Allen Wolfie Simpson and Hanneliese Bredell