Deep in a hidden wood,
there is a Spring that holds
every memory faded from mankind.
Memories of firsts - first kisses,
first day of school, first skinned knee,
first loss - are found in the Spring.
Memories that were once held dear,
passed through generations like
an heirloom - are found in the Spring.
Memories of no great worldly importance,
but meant the world to someone -
are found in the Spring.
My Grandpa’s service in Korea is not
in the Spring - because he is alive and
still remembers. But eventually the Spring will have that memory.
In 60 or 70 years, memories
of my first dog, Tucker, will be
in the Spring.
Friends - Family - will all one day be in the Spring.
A single sip retrieves
lost thought for another round.
The only question that bothers me -
will anyone care
to taste?