Chasing Memories Like Butterflies

Memories

encased in amber

bob up and down

like so many soap bubbles

dispersing in gentle breeze

I am running

trying to catch them

on my fingers

in my palms

long to examine them closely

before tucking them away

for safe keeping

they are fragile

my bones sharp

fingers now razor blades

they shatter one by one

drop to waiting ground

leaving nothing

but iridescent sheen

on cool morning grass

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

 

15 comments

  1. You capture the fragility of memories beautifully in this poem. Your verse reminds me of a dream I had as a child. In that dream I held an object that I wished to keep. Being conscious of the fact that I was about to wake up I put it away in a glass drawer/cupboard. On awaking, I checked the glass compartment and, of course the object/memory? was not present. I guess that somewhere in the glass drawer of my memory whatever I held in my dream still exists. I can not, however find it. Kevin

    Like

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