Day 244: Memories of a Loose Page

This was a late idea during the day, about the memories on loose pages we scribble on in time. I am used to writing on sheets of papers folding them up and sometimes forgetting how or why I wrote them. These random bits and pieces on napkins and sticky notes find their way back home in my minds though their meanings are now different. It is as though from the time it was first written to being read again, its meaning had changed many times. So I wrote about the sentiment that the page may feel, an anthropomorphic version of a page with a short memory, being bound by people who read them or keep them close.

Memories of a Loose Page
I see the untouched day in music that moves the soul
In some memories of yesteryear, that refuse to grow old
I see roaring oceans and I see the calm sunrise too
They are alive in my imagination for a day or two

I see photographs that seem too real sometimes
It doesn't seem like much between "yours" & mine
I am growing older just a jiffy,  I grow more in whimsy
While there are some things that are being written on me

I see the candle lights across your table, your poured wine in a glass
The crisp sound of your pen that scribbles, even before the world asks
I am fond memories you find on a loose page
I am moments in time, the move on and yet never seem to age

I see the quiet dusk shadows as it glimpses further into the night
I wait for a little solace in the cold wind that covers me outside
I am writings undeclared, untouched, unnamed for now
I am captured memories of a loose page that remain scattered somehow