Memory's Child

Had ever you known my honestest memory
you may have known this the truest reality
the part of me that never stopped loving
the person in memory, never forgetting
the soul of a baby, you stay in becoming
to turn into beauty, the silent rose blooming
and still on these words, they cannot speak me
they don't spell the story for you to seek
they don't hear the voicing inside me to reap
to know the truth that I still see
the person you were born to be
and old the memory, its blackened and greying
but still someday, love, it will find me
the words to speak and sing in changing
to become girl from child, the woman from beautifully
the seeking cherub, the angel glowing
the female, the figure, its haunting
tears in its setting the sun falls to nothing
and at every dawn I see it eclipsing
the tortured skin growing and the babe to the beauty
the change to samely and samely to changing
the growth of a life that just keeps on taunting
the days and the weeks and the months that just seem
to keep on the aching, the tortured souls dragging
but on the clock runs and I can see in the face
this wars claiming tears and smiles and dreams
from a life and the living that fell so unfairly
the unfortunate draining, the tragedy's taking
the beauty from baby and baby from innocently
and too soon we're taken from the moment'ry merry
of childhoods airy, the tattered seams baring
but never forgotten are you, the babe of the morning
the rose never wilting, the thorns never dulling
and on through these halls I still hear you laughing
the smiles of purly my fairy tale brightening
the sun it is glowing this white light is fighting
the demons of fainting, the tainting in growing

Copyright Tamara Colette