In this poem, I decided to explore the phrase, "a walk down memory lane." What is this memory lane all about? What would it look like? What would I see on this figurative walk? I realized how beautiful and true a metaphor memory lane is. It's an idea that everyone can relate to, no matter how many or few and happy or sad memories they have. To me, memory lane is a peaceful, liminal place to reflect on the past. It's like going through old diaries and schoolwork, shaking your head at the silly mistakes and thoughts you had long ago, but knowing that the past is past and you can't change it. What if we could look back on our lives, not worrying about our regrets and failures, but instead embracing how much we've grown since then?
Gentle, lovely sunshine
cotton candy skies
with cotton candy clouds
grand old trees
at the earliest hint of fall color.
Wildflowers, as wild can be,
rustling in the breeze
like a mother ruffling her son’s hair
the sound of it -
softest whoosh
- mixing with time’s music.
A toddler’s giggle
the creak of grandma’s front door
the opening chord of a favorite song
father’s sigh.
And I sigh too,
glancing at the dusty path
at my feet
follow my heart
to the first maple
and walk along
beside strings of photos,
jewelry, letters, trinkets
like a storyline of my life.
Both proud and embarrassing moments
a pretty smile
that awful haircut
first and last days of school
with friends, cousins, and teachers
every place I’ve ever called home.
It’s a haphazard tapestry,
stitched from the threads
of passions and dreams.
This memory lane,
for now the end
hidden by mist,
where I wander
to remember.
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