Memories

If I had known that my memories would be

The last relics of a bygone era,

I would have kept better care of them.

Perhaps I would have planted them in a garden.

Blossoms and blooms to feed the bees,

They carry my memories on their fu like

Pollen and take them home to enrich their honey.

Maybe my memories are taken tot he sky

In tehe bellies of birds, and flown south

To warmer climates. Maybe the snakes

Flick the air with their tongues and taste

My memories on the wind. Maybe the sun

Bakes my memories in to the earth, dry

And cracked like the mud of a dried up river wash.

Had I known that my memories would be

The only things left of the flowers the bees the birds the snakes,

Maybe I would have worked harder to keep them

From turning into nothing but memories.