A pen in hand and looking 'round the room,

Ideas will come but do not last. I look

For inspiration, what to say to you.

Then thoughts begin to flood my mind. The books

Of fairy tales and dogs in trees, the times

We used to dance; when things were simple. Feel

The warmth of fire. Smell the scent of limes.

We see our purple rooms and taste that meal.

The pictures fade, reality appears

Before my eyes. I think about our fun

Of now. The helping, fighting, loving nears

My mind. These memories I'll never shun. 

Whatever comes to happen next, do not

Forget these memories that we have got.