Memory

A memory is a skipping stone,
Hitting truth for a second, then leaping,
Moving on across surface and awareness
Till it sinks deeply into the unknown.

All my thoughts of you have been thrown,
There are no pebbles left for me to use,
The water mirrors leafless trees. No rimpling.
The pond is darkened and again I am alone.

Comments on: "Memory" (11)

  1. So beautiful Ina and at the same time very sad. L&H ️xx ❤️

  2. David said:

    Great simile with that skipping stone as memory. So apt!

  3. I like the metaphor.🙂

  4. I love this poem. Thank you Ina for sharing it.

  5. I agree with kvennarad, this is a very apt metaphor!

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