Memories

New wonders are everyday creations, not in submission, potent bliss
An empty pitcher, a wanderer, no water, deep in thirst.
Beautiful world, mysteries and dust, flowing and ever draining lust--
Covered in dust, memories are, liked or disliked, always bore,
With a care, tender touches, swift brushes, pictures gallore.

I with me, bear myself, back from the outgrown days
Hazy or lighted, Agile or blighted, finding or forging unknown ways.
Rays come and suddenly delight, falling on those pictures pale,
Fresh they are, and foreign their smell, Sailing in spring gale.
And then shaken, I start with a start, shudder and gallop, nothing amiss.

On an evening, Candles burning, yellow light, and faint caress;
Wild smell, sweaty palms, heaving breasts in a hefty embrace,
Suddenly broken, never forgotten, dark night and blue stars,
Tendriller hairs, fifteen years, coming through ages, silent whispers.
All alive, as now is, flickering as if an old movie screen.

Times barrier is barrier of action, not to be undone, set in motion,
Suddenly sometimes, to pick up and relish, to breathe and cherish, forgotten emotion.