Memories, where and why
Do we grab them as they pass us by?
Once again, a word a scene
Sparks the trail of memories once seen.
Teenagers meet at their favourite café
The owners treat them as if Family.
They sometimes speak Italian language
The welcome you do not understand,
Kisses on both cheeks smiles in return.
Our favourite booth a place of stories,
Our daily trials or doom of schooling.
Favourite drinks a cup of oxo,
Pepper added do not grimace.
Laughing at words so seemingly harmless
No one challenged as they tell their stories,
Bonded by some mysterious feelings.
Now in later life considered an adult,
Looking back, evenings with another Mother.
A neighbourhood sometimes evil,
Better to keep us in sight and safe.
The street corner where this world once existed,
No café now just houses and traffic.
The very spot it is for sure,
I hear and see friendly faces,
I smile hoping there is no one close by.
Daydream mode is a very close friend,
All stops, a signal, it is the end.
Walk away spring in my step,
Tomorrows forever will be kept.
Short term memories will just not stay in my head but long term ones turn to gold and lock themselves away never to be forgotten. Love this write John. Cheers Geoffrey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Geoffrey, my poetry efforts come from a word or words spoken in day to day life. The spark as I call it, appears as clear as day, the words then hopefully match the memory. Turning into gold? for sure.