28 Aug 2012

oh! ju-ju...

1 comment:

  1. Memories peer out at us,
    Out from a gone passed day.
    Some of them would make us fuss,
    While others beam away.
    Would we find our way back home
    When home is a distant place?
    Or is memory just a catacomb
    In a never-winning race?
    Memories peer out, they do,
    In colors distant, gray;
    But memories are made anew
    By living each new day.
    Yesterday is distant too,
    As far as far can be,
    And for this let us make fresh, new,
    That place called memory.

    -- Me to you