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Bliss and Griss

My mind wanders here and there
back and forth through time
as if time is a fluid thing;
no boundaries to hinder my memories
just my aging body continues moving forward.

Remembering the Bliss of sweeter times:
the smell of fresh baked bread,
newly mowed lawns, and rainy days,
those childhood forever-summer days
bike rides, and artwork with Mike Cope;
where did those days vanquish to?

Not forgotten just best uncalled
were the spankings,
and lectures over bad grades
the go to your room without supper.

The Grist that churned embitterment
of adulthood's baggage
both the good and bad
are who we were then and
will remember the long now when gone;
we are who we are due to the
experiences of our memories; yet
we will be remembered for being
a part of someone else's experience.

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VENTURE INTO MY WORLD

VENTURE INTO MY WORLD
The Watcher's Book of Books