Memories drive nostalgic sepia scorched warm feelings
What ‘was,’ ne’er remembered to completion;
What ‘can,’ succumbs to love and tempered tones
Of events that hone on euphoria for sake of misunderstanding.
When was what was…
Is subdued in the smoky haze of battered experience,
Can hurt be felt across the horizons
Of far gotten conclusions that were wisps at best?
Heat shimmering in the after pour,
Images in mirages of retrospection
And the desire to read in it what the heart contends.
The cold fingers of time,
Make do with the feeble restitution;
Flimsy against the neglect of moving on
To warmer meadows and story book endings
Sepia is the colour of wishes
Unfulfilled perhaps but not remembered so harshly
For memories of the good lived are never to
Scar but heal in troubled times
Portend to the misty morn
As time runs short of perfection
And the life we live draw to a quiet
Curtain fall and a savoury last breathe
Memories within the soul
Give way to the final good riddance
As life that we knew it
Surrenders to the sepia tones of another.
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