Teresa Seed

Memory

Peeping through the door of memory,
I see a little girl that once was me,
Peering through a window to find her dream,
Seeing a vision of a future time.

Surrounded by shelves filled with books and paper,
Seated at a desk where I love to linger,
My pen writes magical, mystical, words,
That transforms my life, that transforms my world.

This memory implanted within my mind,
Struggles to break free, time after time,
With each new page I write today,
I feel a little closer to yesterday.