A rustling breeze is stirring trees,
It hastens falling autumn leaves;
Here comes those stirring memories
That lets the past unfold.
I yearn for them, from time to time.
They come to me, as if in mime
And flow together, like a rhyme;
A treasure to behold.
I sort the pleasant from the sad;
Discard the doleful, keep the glad,
Aware that many I have had
Are from a different mold.
A pleasure can be had from this,
Much joy, contentment, even bliss;
I try, but seldom can resist-
These treasures to behold,
This comfort for the old.
Memories are such a part of life. And the happy memories, the ones we’re pleased to summon, are what keep us going. Indeed, what a treasure they are. Well composed.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...I love this. Fabulous rhythm! .......or cadence: -)