Picture book pages flip in the wind,
Like flimsy fabric ripping against the trees.
These memories fall victim,
Pictures of life we may never see again.
They fly from our fingers much too fast.
If I’m unable to grasp
The color of your eyes
Or gentle waves in your hair …
If your fingers slip from mine
Before I can feel them slide
Along my sides …
If these memories begin to evade,
Should they slide away like cotton in the breeze …
Let me tell you before they’re gone,
Just one more time.
Cotton on the Breeze
Lovely read. So well worded 🙂
Thank you!
Beautiful writing Kelley. 🙂
Thank you!