Reminiscence

Memories are like golden threads, woven round the soul.
They are like tiny droplets of mists,
Hanging from the evergreen foliage of time.
We collect them drop by drop,
Rainbow reflecting from the core of their heart.
It's the little bit of life's anodyne,
Left to heal our soul in the loneliness of ageing day.
They become the lovely poetry of life,
Lulling the pulsating ache of nostalgia.
They free our spirit from the corporal cage,
Lift our amorphos soul to the level of eternity.
And--we drink from these rivulets of memories.
The chalice, becoming the elixir of life.