Mornings, glorious mornings after the perfection of the night,
Conversations, no small talk, deep and meaningful full of knowledge,
The sensuous feeling of tickling fingertips,
Words of wisdom, words of love, both sides acknowledged.
***
Whispering of soul to soul, words not necessary,
Promises made, I’ll forget the part about them not being kept,
Intimate secrets, traded for understanding,
Blissfully laughing, smiling, loving memories treasured and kept.
***
The stolen hours, hidden away from society,
Not for long, but long enough to be cherished,
As ours, never to be lost, never to be stolen,
Kept locked in safety, even after we, as one, have perished.
***
There are days I take out my golden memories, today would be one,
Rifling through them like a pack of photos, freshly received,
A precious giggle escapes at a perfect moment,
Remembered in an instant, like it was just yesterday we believed.
***
Some memories I hunger for, wishing they could be relived,
Others I file in that locked heart of mine,
The best memories are savoured like a fine wine,
Polished until they’re gleaming and displayed in a beautiful design.
***
The conversations still cause my heart to beat in excitement,
Replaying your voice over and over again in my head,
The perfect words, said at the perfect time,
So you didn’t mean them, but I prefer to forget that instead.
***
There were many days of absolute sheer perfection,
One that actually stands out from the rest,
I’ll never hold any regrets for that magical day,
That memory, is my secret, as it’s passed every test.
***
The text messages received, shrouded in anticipation,
The excitement in your words shone through my phone,
A day knowing we have only a few sleeps left,
Are all golden memories we lived as if we had known.
***
We learned so many lessons, even knowing time was not on our side,
Time may have been short, but we lived those precious hours,
Now my memories sustain me on days like today,
Because those golden memories are magically ours.
If you liked my writing, please click on the small heart underneath, near my name. Or send me a tip and let me know you enjoyed it.
****
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Originally posted on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (3)
Sometimes, the only thing that we can hold on to is our memories. And we can choose which to highlight and which to push to the back. Loved this poem!
This is a gorgeous piece. Well done.
I enjoyed the analogy of sifting through cherished memories like old photographs. I often do it myself.