Little wisps are they, darting across my brain,
Blurry images recalled with flashes of joy, grief and pain.
Its funny the way they work, without reason or rhyme
Some staying sharp, others slipping away with the sands of time.
With blank stares, indistinctive replies I mumble,
To recent acquaintances, while for their names I fumble.
But in great detail I’ll remember to the very end,
The sparkly-eyed grin of a kindergarten friend.
My need for detailed verbal maps, get plenty of nerves frayed,
When in this city, for nearly twenty years I have stayed.
But, I know like the back of my own hand,
Twisty little lanes, shortcuts and secret nooks of golden sand.
Learnt an hour ago, in I
Lullabies, silly songs out of my mum’s imagination,
And every nursery rhyme, I still sing with each inflection.
Childish pranks, giggle sessions, fights of the silly kind,
Are etched in permanent ink- crystal clear in my mind.
Rum things are memories, very rum
They make you smile, they make your heart bleed.
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