My Library, My Vault.

In a library of memories

Some old ,some new

Stacked to the ceiling

My walls to view.

A few to be shelved

Not to be bought

Some weigh heavily

Buried by thoughts.

Others lie empty

Dead at birth.

Not worth the space

From an enlarging girth.

Others have tunes

That have you dance

The melody remembered

A beautiful romance.

Many are favourites

Smiles they bring

Reflections of colour

Of love that flowered:

Just like spring.

With time now,... fading

Eroded by rain

On a edge of a precipice

They remain...... they wait..

To be swept away,....... in a mind's sunset.

Reviews

[sereenaoutloud]

I love books, and searching old book stores! This is a great metaphor, how we store all the memories we have, some we love to revisit.. read over and over, some just a one time thing and others collecting dust! brilliant AM

[andrew mitchell]

so right sereena!! Thanks for your kind words!!

[B]

Andrew this one reminds me of my mini library at home

i see my books this way
each one carries some part of me


love this poem Andrew ..... puts a little skip in my ballerinas :)

[andrew mitchell]

lol A skip it is!

[B]

SKip dip trip ..... lol

[alf]

Hi Andrew. I just love it when that 'moon' works its magic and infuses your brain with diamonds like this . . . or should I say platinum???? I love the analogy of library to thought!!! Memory and romance are stored among the hurt and pain but each thought worthy of existence!!! Another brilliant write. I can feel you are extending your abilities, reaching now for the stars!!!! alf

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you alf for taking the time to review. as always much appreciated with your insights,:)

[alf]

You write so very well when you are under the influence of the moon!!! And I always know when that presence is with you, my friend!!! it's something you can't hide!!!!

[andrew mitchell]

My man in the moon lol thanks alf!

[John Alexander McFadyen]

You again capture some of the essence of the writer's life and progress in this poem Andrew.