by Richard Vince

Sometimes, I hear echoes
Many years after the
Original sound was made.

Sometimes, they become
Audible again long after
They first died away.

My memory is a curse
As well as a blessing:
It often chooses to
Remember what I
Would rather forget.

Soon I will forget these
Rolling green fields lit by
The setting summer Sun,
But I will remember
The mistake I made
Before I saw them.

I will remember her
Words long after I
Forget her face.


Posted on 06/24/2012
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Angela Stevens on 08/17/12 at 09:39 PM

Memories are a curse and a blessing. I particularly like the first verse.

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