the fondness of a memory.
From childhood into young adult,
I always get the same result.
My 20’s, 30’s, and beyond,
my memories and I have a bond.
The bad ones I can throw them out,
not welcome now without a doubt.
The good ones I can linger there,
and think about them anywhere.
As each day passes into night,
new ones in my head I write.
As age affects my memory,
hope good ones, still, that I can see.