When an old man tells you how it was,
whispers secrets ne'er forgotten,
past torments and wars unwon
deeds he did, best left unsung,
good times, bad times,
dreams all drifting, sifting through
his life, well lived in.
When he tells you that and more,
tells you of old battle scores.
Don't dismiss it, crit' it, diss it,
from his heart, condemn it
for it was his life, sweet child.
His to own and his to moan of,
each and every precious moment.
When you reach a certain time
in your lifespan, I in mine
you'll empathize, identify
and then you might confess your crimes
upon a parchment, once so white
and it will be a gift, insight -
left behind at your demise.
Ruth Walters's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Memories by Ruth Walters )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- My numb vessals of thoughts, Vishal Sharma
- I Have Decided, Silas Egbowon
- Poets (bilingual), Sandra Feldman
- OUR STREETS شوارعنا, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- The Cure For Winter Blues, Doris Beaulieu
- Tractor Pulls (Poem), Doris Beaulieu
- What It Would Take, David Whalen
- ASHES IN THE EYES, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- الجناس, Abdullah alHemaidy
- world, Samuel Temidayo