Memories, St. Valentine's Day
At the present moment in my Life, love, romance, lust are held in special drawers and slots in my memory.
They can be taken out occasionally and revisited, eliciting echoes of feelings once profound and now just deliciously familiar and cherished.
Perhaps, love, romance, lust for me will no longer be refreshed, although I would like to think they may with a new love interest. For the time being, I cherish the memories of great loves, wonderful romances and lascivious lust, I carry them with me as sacred trusts within my mind. They never leave me; although they are fainter than once lived. None the less they are wonderful for they are and were Life, lived as best I could not alone but bonded to another.
On this theme a poem for this day:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
e e cummings
posted by Tossing Pebbles in the Stream @ 4:13 p.m.
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7 Comments:
What wonderful memories you have of the loves you did have. And what dreams you can have of the future love in your life. Happy Valentine's Day
I sometimes wonder if my memories are more precious than the actual fact. I hope they never leave me. I send you Valentine's greetings and thank you for becoming a friend from afar.
Ahhh, how sweet...
Interesting how somw of us enjoy the memories of the past and others do everything they can to forget. I guess most of us fall somewhere in between.
I had forgotten this poem...
Memories are always a precious thing.
A wonderful choice - cummings is one of my favorites.
I think when one reaches a certain age, the memories begin to flood in. I find myself thinking of old boyfriends, of old lovers.
It was quite a shock a couple of years ago when I read that my first boyfriend, from high school, had died. I thought back to my first kiss--he kissed me in the hallway of the high school. And the memory was sweet, painful, all rolled up.
A belated Happy Valentine's Day to you.
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