Milly and Memories

She plays a MJQ album

on her hi-fi

stands at the window

hoping to catch sight

of the goldfinch bird

she caught sight of

the day before.

The sky is empty of birds.

She sips

her morning orange juice.

Milt Jackson

hammers the vibes so well.

She met them once

in her younger days

after a concert in the city.

No goldfinch shows.

The sky is a softish blue.

She has aged well

and retains her memories

like a treasure obtained

in ageing brain cells.

The Jazz plays on

but no bird shows.

She sips the orange juice

and knows all love and music

and memories must

someday close.

© 4 hours ago, Terry Collett

Reviews

[Vol]

Terry,
A poem about time! Those moments hat have it all... warmth, color, peace, longing, beauty, frozen in the vivid hologram of memory so real, it probably is...
When i think of time, I think of a book... each page an infinitely thin slice of who we were, and who knows? i am writing this from page a million and one of my life, who is to say that I am not still therre on page a hundred and one, looking up and wondering what the future holds. If all matter is made of energy, and energy cannot be destroyed, it isn't to great a reach to think that our passage is not an entity of eternity?
Vol

[Terry Collett]

Vol, interesting in what you say. Not thought of it that way.