It's in the eyes of relatives;
the distant expressions
as they lose themselves in memories,
and reminisce over days of the past.
It's in once forgotten items,
those hidden away in the backs of cupboards,
left to collect dust in the distant crevices of one's mind.
It's in the familiar building.
The warmth and comfort of a house made a home.
A place filled with shadows of laughter and smiles;
filled with early morning school rushes, late night movies,
family gatherings and special occasions.
The hallways sing once forgotten songs,
with voices that can be heard no more.
It's stored in photos.
A collection of moments captured
showing a story of a life well lived,
of people whose presence was fleeting
and those who still remain.
It's an oxymoronic feeling,
filled with both happiness and sadness.
It's a blessing that past existed,
and a longing for it to return once more.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts from my brain
PoetryIt's poetic, in a way. This is a mixture of poems and short passages. I'm writing these for myself, I guess, as a way to collect my thought, but I hope you enjoy the little pieces of me you read.
