A SEED
I was three years old
When my father woke one morn
I asked what’s up
He said wake up you’re born
In a corner of my mind
Someone had planted a seed
A seed called memory
That dawns was the first of many
At first I thought it benevolent
Now it troubles me
It grew as a tree, all it’s leaves a memory
Occasionally, one will fall and I recall.
Some pleasant little thoughts
Some crazy observations
Some bold enjoyable occasions
Some old deplorable altercations
Some terrible wrongs
Some gentle little songs
Some highs
Some lows
Some sentimental sorrows
Some special situations
Some dangling conversations