Is it Memorial Day Again?

Sometime yesterday morning I read

Where somebody quietly, truthfully said,

“Memorial Day isn’t special for me,

From some memories I’ll never be free.”

Whoever it was, those words rang true:

Back through time, out of the blue,

Sometimes unbidden recollection stirs

And another old memory slowly recurs.

A picture, an aroma, a snatch of song

Bring back the scenes, clear and strong:

A mother’s smile, a lover’s touch,

The faithful friend who meant so much,

The brother, always relied upon,

Whose passing was like the death of the sun;

A few acid-etched memories from the war

Constantly hover near my mind’s door.

Memories, all stored in my very own way,

That have no need for a special day.

© 5/30/2005 Thurman P. Woodfork

Awarded 6/2/2005