These memories
Unfairly risen from distant, awkward past
Shimmer on horizon
Distort the view
Reflections
From murky mirror in rusty frame
Hint at what once was
Mar the recollections
With clouded silvered glass
And cobwebs draped in ornate corners
Eyes focused forward
We march toward the future
But our boot laces
Like these memories
Remain entangled in the thickets
From where we tread before
© 2019 John P. M. Dillon
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.