I love when something positive can be gleaned from even a sad occasion.
While paying respects at a funeral home on Saturday, I happened upon this quote on a photo display.
“When a loved one becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.”
Is that not so true?
For those who like the poetry posts…(I hope it isn’t a duplicate)…
THE ME I USED TO BE
I miss the me I used to be,
the things I used to do,
I miss the energy and verve
the vim and vigor too.
I miss the way my feet could dance,
the way my body bent,
contorted to the Limbo
(under the pole I went).
I miss the feel of garden soil
where once my hands would dig
while scrunching down to plant the seeds
before my joints got big.
Yes, I miss the me I used to be
and all the things I did,
but even though the body’s old,
inside I’m still a kid.
Thanks to those who ask for the poems…I love poetry too.