She pulls impressions from memory files, Stacking them between the hearth And a pitcher of iced water. Through a process of elimination, With the aid of imaginative convenience She decides which should burn And which should freeze.
The ones that still hold heat in her heart Shall reignite in bright flame, And she will draw oxygen through cinders And the coals shall burn again.
Memories that descend like a hailstorm Are fated to the shuddering chill, To the depths of a symbolic disused quarry And its waters deathly dark and still.
She sees a handsome man from the past, Full of life love and promises And compares him to The sleeping snoring mass Bent and slumped on the armchair, His hand inches away From an empty wine glass.
She recalls rainy summers spent under canvas, Then rendered to canvas, preserved in frame Now stacked in the cobwebbed dark of the attic, Nostalgia no longer viewed… The laughter induced by sodden clothes And the smudging of mud, Passions for far too long subdued
Somewhere central to the pros and cons Memories remain resolutely etched, Flameproof and fearless of the cold, A good meeting point for the swing and sway Of the positives and the despondencies, A safe haven relied upon When tomorrow steals today.