Memory

Sometimes I think I've lived too long.

The days pass like silk through my fingertips,

Memories that unfold quietly, softly.

I remember my mother's smile,

And the sound of her singing is something I cannot hear anymore,

It seems like with everything that passes,

I lose a little every day.

I remember playing in the grass with my sister,

The blades tickling my feet,

Rolling through the hills,

Collecting violets and daises, the sun up in the noon sky.

My father's laughter used to echo through this house,

He chuckled at something my older brother said,

I sat on his knee as the records played,

Tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

I was the youngest,

And now I'm the only one left,

Memories that fade like old clothes in the wash,

Are the only thing I have left of the past.

@Famewriter