Tuesday, October 14, 2014


Breezes shift,
stirring leaves in spirals,
stirring music of memory,
conjuring seasons past,
reasons present,
and stretching toward
regions unexplored.

Memories are fragile,
like a house of cards,
built as much with forgetting
as remembering,
and yet, and yet,
the stirring and the falling,
well, that’s all right.

Sweeping up this pile,
a thoughtful procrastination,
not to relive, but to realize
all that has been,
all that has changed,
all that has been built
because of all that came before,
a moment to pause and reflect,
a moment to cherish.

Wistful in the windswept lane,
meanings present themselves not,
but experience is the unending song,
a music built on all such themes
as sift now through my soul
and tug my vision forward.

© 2014 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen