Making Memories

My memories fade
as new ones are made.
Although I’m afraid,
I don’t want to forget
the people of my past.
I think about them often.
I can only hope that
these memories last.
The memories I make
could never be replaced.
These memories crowd me;
they follow me around
and sometimes help me
when I am
d
o
w
n.
I’m thankful to be involved
in memories evolved.
My memories fade
as new ones are made,
but I’ll never forget
the things you did.
When I think about us,
it’s my memories I trust.

The Gate

I approach the gate,

but I’m denied access.

I’m told to wait

and not be the fastest.

The voice echoes

off the rusty gate

and then determines

my very fate.

I wait in silence

much like that gate,

then I reach for the handle

a chance I’ll take.

My turn is now

through years of patience.

I still wonder

where the time went.

The doors swing open

and I’m the last one in.

But was this place different

from where I’ve been?

Others now stand

on the other side

as the gate closes

creating a divide.

I now look through

spaces in the gate

remembering what I knew

from an altered state.

Traffic

Stuck, in the same seat many others

Are familiar. Confined to a lane created by

Those before us. Hands gripped, tightly around

A leather circle. Many signal and orchestrate

Cars around them as if surrounding cars

were trained musicians. Inching forward with

Anticipation and slight remorse. But I’m not

Alone in this course. Sweat falls from faces

Onto White collars, onto car mats costing

Too many dollars. Hearing too many hollars.

Another inch closer. But to what? Where?

Switch lanes if you dare. Use a blinker.

Do not linger. Move. One inch closer.

You’re almost there. Look back rarely.

“You remember how you got here?”

Asked by a passenger. Idk. Barely.