Memories

Memories may migrate from the forefront

Of my mind to the depths of consciousness,

And although the details may become blunt,

With the dwindling acuity of an aging man,

The demure visage will forever be a dream—

Cinderella amidst a cloak of mystic.

Her eyes drew me in, a gentle gleam,

To match the tender lips, tethering my heart.

A stolen glance, upon a chance meeting

In her image, the embodiment was unique,

But the feeling within me was heating,

The warning, of midnight’s forthcoming.

Puzzle pieces were placed in front of me,

And with an enlightened grin—for perhaps

The first moment of my life—I could see

The simplicity on the world unfold.

      DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com