BREAKFAST
When I poured out our juice this morning
there were the same old faded
streaks of color
and flecks of paint on our
jelly jar glasses
that I don’t notice every day.
Years ago these were brilliant
cartoon illustrations
shot through with sunlight at
the breakfast table,
more vibrant than TV;
now dulled beyond recognition
after a generation of dishwasher
scrubbings.
But you still knew mine
was Winnie the Pooh chasing
butterflies, and yours
was Tigger bouncing.
So true. So true.
- Mark
It’s too bad reality ceases to be as fresh as our memories. But then again, the fact that the past is past is what makes it so precious.
Too many times the sweet “little things” become mundane, and leave a bitter taste on the tongues of our greed. Yet it’s when we no longer possess the “little things” that their meaning grows and we yearn to revisit them.