Memory: Early morning, August 4, 1987

Turn your face to the moonlight.
Let your memory lead you;
Open up, enter in.
If you find there the meaning of what happiness is,
Then a new life will begin.

Memory! All alone in the moonlight;
I can smile at the old days,
I was beautiful then.
I remember the time I knew what happiness was.
Let the memory live again.

Burnt out ends of smoky days,
The stale, cold smell of morning.
The street lamp dies, another night is over;
Another day is dawning.

Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise!
I must think of a new life,
And I mustn’t give in.
When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too.
And a new day will begin.

Touch me! it’s so easy to leave me!
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun.
If you touch me,

you’ll understand what happiness is.

Look — a new day has begun!

Leave me she did.

I did not give in.

And a new life did begin.

One Response to “Memory: Early morning, August 4, 1987”

  1. Don Bronkema Says:

    The moon is a wisp of lost affection, the sun a harsh praetorian…say sorry to censure–triumph is not conquest…the phalarope wasn’t late, but winged off early [See Browning’s lament].

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