through unsorted memories
scattered through 
a cluttered mind
disorganized by the ravages
of time
each moment 
a landmark
something to grasp 
as we search
often in vain
for reminders of a past
that seems to be
drifting away
carried like the seeds of 
drifting on a breeze
after being kissed 
by the wind
scattered to the corners 
of the Earth
where they take root
establishing new life
building new memories
for those who find them
a field of blossoms awaits
while those left behind
find themselves
wandering through
a now barren field

by P.J. Amsel

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