Secret love and hidden memory.
My Scottish Beauty.
Secret love and hidden memory
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Some people cannot be forgotten.
Secret love and hidden memory.
I saw her face today.
Made me wander back in time.
Each of us hold our Beatrice’s near.
The writer holds on to memories like a drunkard holds on to his wine.
Do our memories become less with time?
Do innocent kisses and embraces of youth become sweeter with age?
Do dreams of beautiful brown-eyed young woman leave your thoughts
and you become empty?
Can you escape the dance of long sweet kisses and yearning to touch
tender and warm flesh?
Age allowed us to ponder old memories.
Make us wished we held tighter and done more.
Beautiful faces dance in my head.
Old thoughts forgotten.
Rebirth to make me remember I loved a brown eye girl once.
Coyote
© 2012 Coyote Poetry
Hello John! Thanks for stopping by and for following my blog “Exploring the world: photography, travel, art”. Is interesting the way your photos look in this post, with a kind of sepia gentle color that reflects that time has passed by. Lovely thoughts and photo of your hidden loved one.
Kind greetings,
Marianne
I have 40 years of photos. I did a lot of traveling with the military. The photos were took with a $20 camera. I have 20 books of photos of where I was stationed. I took a lot of war photos also. I post them on photo bucket. Thank you for the comment.
Memories are flowers that spring up long after they were planted. Very beautiful poem, John.
Memories become more important with time. Good to look back and know we had lived a good life. Thank you for the comment.
I think they do remember you JohnCoyote… I think that for you because I need it to be true for me too… xo
Lovely JohnCoyote… Thanks for sharing this… Sometimes you think when other people go they never think of you again… It’s nice to think maybe they do… I love this poem.
I believe the people who we loved. Are hidden till you need the memory again. I wonder do old friends remember me? Thank you for the comment.
Very haunting, you can paint a melancholy picture with words
“The writer holds on to memories like a drunkard holds on to his wine.” For some reason this line struck me. And the questions you posed are sure to linger in people’s minds, especially if they’ve experienced a similar kind of love.
I have read too much Hemingway. I follow his foot steps in California. Thank you for the comment.
That was nice and sad John
Thank you for the comment. Funny how old memories can sneak up on you.
Yeah but they makes us who we are….
Beautiful memories are always there to be touched upon…wonderful writing!
Thank you for the comment. Memories become better with time.
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I love your pictures … they match the melancholy of your words.
Thank you for the comment. I do appreciate.