So, Here It Is

So, here it is and so are we

Eager for what we cannot see

But soon its emptiness will frame

For each and every one the same

From vaults that no one can appease

This thing making new memories

Then, when the evening star is lit

And we pause to reflect a bit

As what now is wafts to what was

It steals our very breath because

Often it slips our thought with ease

That we are making memories

These ties that bind will someday break

Living’s design of give and take

Is all we have with which to fill

A place that oft returns at will

To echo on some dark night breeze

Where now we make those memories

So, here it is and so are we

A touch-taste-tremble odyssey

Before the scrim of sunset seals

What soon will be to phantom reels

That none can change; God, help us, please

For we are making memories

© Janet Martin

So, because I've been pondering this idea of days being like a thread weaving memories, when she came to me last night and softly touched my arm, asking 'May I have nine girls over for a school-year- end celebration on Friday?' to her astonishment I said 'yes':)