The Things We Remember Poem by Alice Baudoin

The things we remember
Are the ones that have changed
The regard on our life,
And the meaning of gained

Are the things that have added
From September to May
Newly rose buds of wisdom
To the views of the day

In the fog of old times
When at school in the evening,
While the teacher was absent
And the wind was intriguing

Once a gentleman came
For the last English class
With a word of good bye
And green eyes wet like grass

Silver-haired and noble
Like a lied in wind's tongue
Brushing few yellow leaves,
That in winter still hang

With incessant grey smile,
And incessant bright eyes,
Emeralds through the fog,
Wherein wisdom lies

Words of deepness he spoke
"Hope, but do not expect
That's a good phrase of wisdom
To embrace and select"

Gates of pleasure were open
Falling out to the sun
Life is all about hope,
And its day just begun

Every dream is hope
What a wonderful thought
Our minds and fears,
What a thrill have now caught

No measure is there
In the hope, of our past,
Hope is pure like a rebel
Or the sun beneath dust

Hidden nest below flowers
The behold source of freshness,
What a thrill, what a sound
What a life into deafness

Expectation relies
Ruthlessly on the past,
With bland rules to abide by
Nothing yet to be trust

How capricious is hope
And well hope has no rules,
While old, yet to flourish
In its candor by fools

How endearingly rude is
Like Carmen, like the dance
Of a gypsy ballerina
All around wall of chance

Think at how many things
That have pushed along time
All the human design
To be now in its prime

Have ever been known
In their times of grace
As a realist aim
As a down-to-earth embrace

Expectation is squeezing
Its cold feet in a cavern,
While hope overflows
Like a red wine night tavern