The woods of memory are littered

with the detritus of myriad moments

The flotsam and jetsam of a life strewn along every path

A small cloth elephant sits on a log

bright pink, beautifully embroidered

opening a path to a long trip through many countries

the child’s remembrances are vague now

and the path is full of glimpses only

scattered stones of ruined castles

running through woods playing chasey

gingerbread men at a small bakery

so long ago

Pair of gloves hang from a bush

that path is cold, so cold

to an anaemic teenager who couldn’t keep warm

hands always freezing even with the gloves

Too icy for function, for thought

Dread to be cold to this very day

Flyer for a local theatre production

first time on stage, scary but fun

learning lines, dressing up

cast parties with all the booze and drugs

doing silly things while feeling like a grown-up

No regrets for hard work and good times

Smell of minced fruit and brandy

leads down paths of Christmas past

Some with smiles, presents and love

Some with family fights and tears

Sometimes people disappoint you

But sometimes love comes down

The woods of memory are messy places

Paths criss-cross each other like a huge jigsaw

And yet it all connects in the end

This is the pattern of a life

One thought on “The Woods of Memory

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