On Banks of an Old Memory

a hand touching the grass, a tired tree leaning into the creek,

the water moving, passing over rocks,

trickling sounds, buzzing by, the honeybee.

An old red covered building, closed off at the waters' edge,

a young lady walking her dog along the trail,

a young boy across the water, flying a kite in the field with his father,

sadly a soda bottle drifts by, but a wonder, a letter inside?, as it carries along on its sail.

This place in memory, walked so many times, unafraid,

a place for comfort, peace in thought, amongst dried leaves, dried tears.

The gray squirrel, scurrying through the light and shade, between the maple and pines,

riding bikes, laughing, racing, fast behind those years.

Coming to the roadway, closed off from traffic,

the vision of the old apartment just steps ahead,

she peers out from the second floor,

crossing the street, following the voice, recalling what she said.

Still seeing the memory, so vivid in the mind,

to close the eyes then step inside,

emotions still there, sense of touch and smell,

as thoughts travel, remembering, grandpa fixed my bicycle, in memory I ride.