To sit and sift through pictures,

each its own clear memory,

to laugh over one,

cry for another;

Beloved faces gone till eternity.

To recall long past birthdays,

painful, without rejoicing.

from one year to another

a quiet, gentle turning,

far better to leave those in Memory.

To walk through the rooms,

in which one grew up.

Remembering the good,

pushing behind the bad,

so little remains - sad but true.

The new things stick out,

they don't belong.

Yet help soothe the wounds.

Makes it easier to pretend

these are different rooms.

A breathless escape

from the old mausoleum.

Love outweighed by hate

defiles all the good,

I left for good reason.

To enter a house

where love is the standard,

it is not mine, yet I would rather

continue to abide,

a guest and a stranger

Not to the people who

with me share a home

but to the kind of family

which I long for,

but to whom was not born.