How It Felt

Memories created are stored in the colors of sky and sea,

grass and kitchen counter.

Feelings of music and pain are stored in the apple-scented air and sweet breeze of the place I used to be.

Sharp, cold wind brings amber tones and a swirling light to the edges of my mind, with faded familiar faces living their lives in the center.

Tired muscles and an anguished soul mixes with sunlight and childlike wonder, creating a surprising harmony

that plays in pockets along my well being.

What sorrow and guilt, what pleasure and satisfaction I have experienced. How together we felt, even when I was alone.

How inseperable we are, though I have moved on.


A small green vine has scooted up the gate, the roots providing a vibrant strength unseen from the outside of such an unbecoming plant. A marvelous joy pulls it heavenward, even while an impenetrable fear hinders its progress.

How did I not see it before?

This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



Good work! I think it revolves primarily around mixture, and how sometimes, as memories grow more distant from us, that blurring of events and solidification of the memory as a more singular cohesive thought can unify the worst and best parts of an experience. Hopefully leaving a lesson learned in its place. At least that's what I thought on my first read.

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