Memory is like a beach, Where the sand is never neat, Each wave takes its bit, Leaving the sand that sticks. *** Memory come in many forms, Like footsteps in wet sand, Or rocks never covered, Or dark caves avoided. *** Some have left their mark, On the beach of my mind, Some will stick forever, And some to be lost in time. *** I hope my footsteps, Are there on your beach, And that I am never, A rock beneath your feet.
©The Pesky Poet
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