Chinks In The Armor
Memory is the armor of our stability;
making us feel safe and secure;
allowing our thoughts incredible agility;
without it; to others, we defer.
Memories are like a flowing stream;
as pure as the melted snow;
ebbing and flowing; like a dream;
things that we choose to know.
Many are pictures of a distant past;
those we choose to call upon;
other memories, just refuse to last;
once happened; they’re gone.
When young; all memories are clear;
in reach; whenever needed;
as we grow older they disappear;
as tho somehow, superseded.
Our mind is like an incredible library;
containing a lifetime of thought;
as we grow older; it becomes contrary;
deciding which memory ought.
Our thoughts walk down memory lane;
as tho walking down a library aisle;
when we become lost; others complain;
confused; we simply laugh or smile.
Our memory banks are simply overflowing;
whether a banker, nurse, or farmer;
all our life; thoughts have been growing;
our memory has chinks in the armor.
Monty 1.9.26. # 3,144