Yesterdays always seem to arrive uninvited in my today's and sometimes even my tomorrow's.

Looking for a moment of silence

Yesterday

As I stand upon the edge of tomorrow
Looking across the sea of yesterday
The winds of the past beckon me to follow
And

Walking among the tree lined streets
of my childhood home, I recall
the yesterdays in my remembrance
as, with familiar purpose,

Slices of immense sadness.

Gestures of intense joy.

Only alive for twenty four hours.

Fragile porcelain flowers.

Warped

Yesterdays is where my memory stays

Thinking of of old and innocent ways

My oh my! those were the days

Songs of old