We trace them, but not with our fingers
We kiss them, but not with our lips
And oh, how their essence lingers
Long after the hour slips
We hold them but not in embraces
We keep them but not in our clutch
Echoes of times and places
Cradled in ethereal touch
The heart is a vault filled with treasure
Of love and its lessons we learn
As memory's immutable measure
Preserves what can never return
© Janet Martin
Let's make today's treasure something to treasure! God bless and keep.
Let's make today's treasure something to treasure! God bless and keep.
Janet, this is a beautiful poem and makes me think of my parents as I look back at the photos.
ReplyDeleteJosephine, thank-you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts! May this day be a 'treasure in the making'!
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely. I love my treasured memories!
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me too:) Thank-you Sue.
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