Memories often bump in me
like balls sliding on fast tracks
or toys hurled by toddlers.
Sometimes they bounce off happily
causing smiles and leaving me bright.
Some, though, stick – thick and heavy,
reluctant to move on,
simply clinging to me
as cannonballs in damp clay.
They give me goosebumps,
or visions of dark.
The love of darkness
is overwhelming.
***
Belittling bad memories has never brought about the joy we hoped it would.
©2024, soulmary
Note: Both pieces are on the topic given by Writer’s Digest Prompt for the day – Memory. The second one is a Monostich after NaPoWriMo.net prompt for the day.
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