Tip of My Memory
On the tip of my memory
of a time so distant
sitting at kitchen table
watching my mother.
She was cooking one of her
fine means, as she always did,
remembering how young
she was.
Miss those days of old
when we would just talk
of her telling me of her youth,
now I'm older than she was then.
All of this just on tip of
my memory, so long ago
as days go by, memory fading
away to days so distant.
(4-21-07)
poem by Jim Foulk
Added by Poetry Lover
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