Memory of Past, Present and Future


A river flows in my head
The roses are not in the bed
The clouds float away
The sun is absent today

I seem to recall yesterday
And your voice as you'd say
"Grab on to life as it passes"
But then, you always wore glasses

So many greener grasses
So many dividing classes
Supported by my pencil of lead
I cry to leave you for dead


~Stephanie Lafleur