Memory

The past is merely slumbering--

The past is never dead.

The best of it oft comes to life

within my heart and head.

The things you said to me that day,

I hear them all the while,

That I am walking down the way

We went.  I see you smile.

Or take the pleasant hour that

We paused upon the hill.

I'm standing at that place just now--

I see and hear you still.

We fall again to arguing

About all this and that.

Though we can never solve a thing,

However long we chat.

It's good to be here just the same;

The fervor in your voice

Comes back across the dimming years

To make my heart rejoice.

You said that you'd remain my firend

Though time and distance brought

Our common journey to an end

And other havoc wrought.

So I am glad to be with you

Here at the valley's edge

To grip your hand as we renew

Our old and sacred pledge.

I almost think that you do share

This memory of the past

That finds me pleasantly aware

That fragile dreams can last.

And so, goodnight--I'm leaving now

To go my single way;

I trust that you will meet me here

Upon another day.

The past is merely slumbering--

The past is never dead.

The best of it oft comes to life

Within my heart and head!