Tuesday, September 10, 2013


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I don’t talk to myself much anymore
Sometimes I whistle, sometimes I hum
But I hardly ever mutter words to myself
I don’t trust words alone with my memories
They just always seem to form silly questions
Most voices I could offer immediate answers to
But some questions I needed to think about first
My answers have proven themselves over time
As the simple lucky echoes of my own past life
Life lived early was bright with lasting surprise
Like arrow heads forgotten on a dry earth floor
Left by family and friends when I sought shelter
Now I burn in the present but still honor my past
Grateful smiles tie memories to those who I loved
The elders that valued me when I was still young