Memories have an odd rhythm…

Memories have an odd rhythm…
Sometimes they come with clear bell notes…
Sometimes with deep raucous tones…
Always in love with the morning.

They seldom give me advice…
Often make my bushy eyebrows twitch…
Saying too frequently, “you could have done better”
Or “you did great,” exaggerating a moment with a friend.

Memories are able to drift through vents…
A breeze of sadness, or happiness, or peace…
I stop them before the pot begins to steam…
Because they are asking for a tithe I do not want to give.

Memories add shape to the web of intricacy…
A voice that is eternally taking shape…
For me I cling to the happy ones and throw away the sad…
It is easy, I just use the gift that heaven has given me…
Forgiveness and compassion.

I love you,

Annie