Poetry | Stories | Photography
The echo of her strident voice;
lost in the memory of that remembered moment,
falling away from the sorrow.
She leaves this trace of hate,
found in the memory of all that I had forgotten;
holding on as I use the pen
and the paper to write every remembered word.
The echo of her voice fades;
feeling like myself in the moment again
as the inked paper burns away.
casual exchange
under the old red gum tree
the memory fades
The sound of an Oud moves a foreign memory to the fore of your mind as you walk through the streets of a foreign town as a foreigner.
They look at you with different coloured eyes, yet you look at them with the eyes of a person unseasoned in the ways of the world.
The smell of Rose Water, Orange Blossom, and mint tea reminds you of another memory from before you were who you appear to be now.
A market tempts you to buy material possessions you thought you would never own, as something about the items takes you back.
The touch of a warm breeze moves your legs towards a place of Olive and Oleander, as the memory becomes a reality and you know
why you came to this place.
C & K 