It Is What It Is......

It cannot be altered, or ever returned to
We cannot retrace a single foot-print
Nor can we erase one jot or one brush-stroke
Written forever in eternal ink
An invisible gallery of unchangeable memories
An echo down a long darkened corridor
Where only our thoughts will ever gain entrance
To view all the paintings on the walls and the floor

It is a teacher and it is a preacher
It is the hand with an iron fist
It is the voice of the fruit of our choice
It is the room where first we were kissed
It is a dungeon and it is a meadow
The floor where our tears and our laughter are cast
It is a mirror through which we see clearer
It is what it is, it is the past

All rights reserved
Janet Martin