Memories Poem by Giselle Braeuel

As they come to my mind
I pick them up for inspection
to view them one by one
like coloured chards of glass.

Some have sharp edges, they cut.
Better are the others, the coloured ones,
in which distant dreams take shape
out of the purple and green reflections.
Some hues of blue will put my mind at peace.
There are all colours of the rainbow,
opaque and translucent too,
some sparkling bright.
They recall days of spring and birdsong,
happy moments of childhood.

Looking at my jar,
filled with chards of glass,
I reminisce.