A memory comes from my past to me
Much cherished set in rose well remembered,
A ****** of a gentle note set free
From touch and scrutiny of future blur.
Examined more I start to see the cracks
That never were had I not looked astray.
They grow wickedly now set in their tracks,
My vision dims, upon me much it weighs.
Spent days in torpor, spent nights discontent,
Escape ultimately sinks down in vain
For it is I my own storms do invent,
Who sows the salt of wounds preserved in pain.
Look not unfondly of your deeds bygone,
Left alone in tepid ash - new life dawns.