MEMORIES
I cast my eyes on withered hands
and only see them young and smooth.
My gray locks shine golden in my mirror.
I see his face, as it came close to mine.
And I feel love's first kiss.
It brings treamors, even now.
his touch, his lips, his embrace,
live silently behind closed eyes
in aged spleandor I remember.
I often wonder where those days have gone
Of careless youth and laughter.
I don't recall leaving them
or wanting them gone.
Of all the things I've learned
an all the memories I have,
those carefree memories of him
linger and remain
the most important of all.
Lauren Davies