A Long Way Home
Memories never leave.
The wind around familiar places
breaks with the shapes
of long-lost pleasant reveries.
The night weaves words,
and haunts of many things past;
favourite things new in the maze
of recollection, or regrets.
So, the somber mind cleaves
to the soft joy of surrender.
In wine, truth, a whisper,
and old words to soothe again.
Whenever the heart heaves
for the best of good times past,
words will return to this silence,
and the grace of remembrance.
There it is then, no reprieve.
Life remains, and love. I believe.