I found this poem tucked at the bottom of an old box, lost in the back of our closet. I wrote it a long time ago and thought you might enjoy it.
It’s looking at old photographs;
Rummaging through scrapbooks.
It’s discovering hidden treasures
Stored in forgotten boxes.
It’s walking through familiar halls;
Visitations to haunted places.
It’s reading letters aged with time;
Meeting faces from afar.
It’s a memory.
At times it’s peaceful
At times it’s turbulent
At times, even educational.
It may be happy, or it may be sad,
But is it a necessity?
A momentary reflection
Will not hurt, but then let it go.
The present and the future
Is where our energy’s to be directed.
We cannot live for nostalgia alone –
What will it bring?
… only a memory …