Chantelle Clark (Feb 7th 1991 / Toronto)
I pick up our old photo album of what used to be.
I turn the dusty pages full of memories.
Each day was a struggle for me.
Complaints of friends mixed with feelings, I didn't know who was me.
I come upon a memory so fine it brings tears to my eyes.
This memory, a picture of a fading sunset upon swaying trees.
The rainbow of dancing leaves frames us walking in ease.
Now as tears stream down my face I think of the battles we faced.
Fight after fight, screaming matches that lasted the night.
I shut these dusty memories away within a place yet not revealed.
Locked away deep inside, memories are concealed.
Now those memories in the past make me see how grateful I am to have moved on, without feeling to much dread for memories now etched in the past.
Comments about this poem (Dusty Memories by Chantelle Clark )
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