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A hasty breeze is stirring trees,
it hastens falling autumn leaves;
Here comes those stirring memories,
that lets the past unfold.
I yearn for them, from time to time.
They come to me, as if in mime
and flow together, like a rhyme,
a treasure to behold.
I sort the pleasant from the sad,
discard the doleful, keep the glad
and know that many I have had,
are from a different mold.
A pleasure can be had from this,
much joy, contentment, even bliss.
I try,but seldom can resist,
these treasures to behold,
This comfort for the old.
Jan-2023
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