by Wanda Brayton

Created on: November 11, 2009

The Folly of Memory

He turned away from light, toward dusky silence,

unable to digress

any further than he already had.

She paused in confusion

for what might have been lost

inside the turning of leaves.

She thought she'd heard music

caught within his quiet whirlpools;

yet, perhaps it was drowning instead.

Even when we are distant from memories so vibrant,

we can never be sure

of what we thought we knew.

This truth we cradle recklessly

is only speculation.

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