Halcyon Days
Nets of remembrance cast way back
Dredging and fishing the waves
Of surf on a childhood island
Where the halcyon days sleep in graves.
Does anyone know where the time went?
When the tide of life started to turn,
How it slipped through the fingers like nothing,
How it seemed there was plenty to burn?
The people and places so treasured,
Salad days swallowed in play,
Buried in coffins of keepsakes,
Blank markers imply where they lay.
Unearthed in the musings of moments,
Spontaneous nostalgia be wed
To the implement tools of the psyche,
And the thoughts resurrecting the dead.
Mythologies coined by the memory,
Some vivid, some poorly defined,
A first kiss, the girl so vivacious,
Her name never quite springs to mind.
The sun blazing brighter and hotter
On the callow face haloed with light,
Was it really so simple and easy,
Was it really that clear and bright?
The truth from a book resonating,
Can strip the philosophy bare:
For the past is an alien country
And they do things so differently there…
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