The memories are still the same
they never age from what remains
the colours fade to black and grey
then simply seem to fade away
What now I think as I get old
am I not like the memory told
I feel the same and of no age
but in my eyes the colour fades
and will my body spare of thought
begin to fade and leave me nought.
Memories some good some sad. But alas they are all reminders. Patricia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poem is all true. A mystery, not an answer - hence, religious in a sense. This is a very fine vision, and the beauty of the language is - well, entrancing. Just a stunning work. As memory fades, do we? If they fade away....