Rewriting Memories
Never mind the bombs or images of war
Or the blind kid on the bus singing trying to make a living
How did we neglect the hungry and the destitute and the old?
But time does not forget
It just plays in a private theater
Like a matinee waiting for me to come in and watch
Amidst all that chaos and madness
There was a beautiful, picturesque sense to it all
In the open road
Or plazas people went about their way
Beyond color and smell
More than taste and touch
Like music
Some of those brighter recollections overshadow the sad
But I never forgot about that boy
Clothes torn
Hanging on singing with a gifted voice until the next bus stop
Collecting whatever he could
My grandmother giving me a few coins to place in his hand
A life lesson in understanding – how good we had it
Maybe he grew up to be man
And found a way to make a living
And found someone to love him
And had children of his own
But in rewriting this memory
I wish I could have given more
Powerfully penned, Wally. Excellent write with heartfelt storytelling my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian