The colors of my memories

11 Comments

My umbrella could not protect me

from the rain that would come.

Like a tsunami of emotion,

sadness hit me with a fury,

threatening to pull me into its current

and drown me in its torrents.

Some days the emotion feels heavy, oppressive,

like wax dripping on canvas,

and the thin veil of my resolve is not enough

to shield me from the pain of loss.

wax on canvas

But on the good days,

I can bathe in the colors of that storm.

I am the black and white character

wading into a flushed prism of good memories

and I no longer feel alone.

Although you are not physically here with me,

your brush still adds a splash of life to my canvas

and those hues make me feel connected again.

How good it feels

to walk through the reminiscence of you.

 (image credit)

11 thoughts on “The colors of my memories

  1. “I am the black and white character
    wading into a flushed prism of good memories”—Love that line!

    Beautiful post. And I love the theme of your blog, by the way. It’s a really nice set-up.

  2. Pingback: By hook or by crook, I’ll create a chapbook | polysyllabic profundities

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