Past Days

Past days are calling to me.
I strain to hear the call
but all the ensuing days I live
make it hard to remember it all.
I come closer to the memories
when I dream at night.
I travel back to my past times
and then they're in my sight.

I lose a lot of them when I wake
for my mind is focused on now.
But I know that I will find them again
somewhere, sometime, somehow.
And when I do I'll gather them close
and clasp them to my heart.
Will they stay with me again
or silently depart?

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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