Catching Memories

There are always left overs of what used to be
Remnants, that if nothing else float
Just swiftly enough
For us to feel them begging to be remembered

Sometimes they form a face
With his strong eyes
And her soft lips
Glistening over his predominant chin

A concoction of lovers
Never knowing
That love is made for beauty
Even if sprinkling itself onto offspring
The the form of a familiar face
That taunts us
Asking so nicely
If we could remember where it was made

And memories are stored in small fingers and toes
Small enough that they could very well
Disappear into a full grown hand
But the touch and the way that every curve was inherited
From another time or place
Is just the way that we are pulled to remember
And when we find truths
Hold on
Because they will get us through many a restless night

Teaching us to be rivers in life
Flowing from one place to the next
But always in the same river
Learning to bend with the land
But never forgetting that life itself taught us to live