Vibrant Memories and Fleeting Time

 

Vibrant Memories and Fleeting Time

(A Free Verse Poem)

I too have watched the daffodils dance,
And seen the falling snow of cherry blossoms—
Echoes of Wordsworth and Housman,
Their verses lingering in my mind
Like a melody long remembered.
Memories of when my world was wide,
And time seemed as endless as the sky.

Now, I count the seasons
Like a man counting coins,
Three scores and ten, they say—
Yet, here I stand,
With not many springs left
To watch the cherry blossoms bloom.

In the quiet of the mountains,
By the rush of the waterfalls,
I find peace in the solitude,
A highly functioning introvert
Cradling memories like treasures.
I see the streams where I once fished,
The fields where footballs flew,
Pageantry and passion,
All held in my heart’s fading grasp.

But still, I hunger for more—
Not for wealth or fame,
But for the fleeting beauty
Of creation’s hand.
I long for the feel of soft grass
Beneath my feet,
The laughter of grandchildren
Echoing through the years,
Like the song of the cherry blossoms
Before they fall to the earth.

Time is a thief,
But memories are my shelter.
And as the daffodils dance
And the cherry trees bloom,
I will find comfort
In all that I’ve seen
And all that is left
To see.

Here is where I was inspired by these wonderful thoughts

Loveliest of Trees
by A. E. Housman

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.