I’ve heard it said many times,
that memories turn unseen by all but you.
But if untroubled spirits of yesterday exist,
they dress in muted shades
our imaginations reach in that brief moment
between ponder and passage.
If I showed you cold waves crashing,
maybe then you could understand
that the oceans of winter sleep
only in forgotten dreams.
Though this poem wasn’t written in response to dVerse Open Link Night #365, I think it aligns well with the theme. Our host, Sanaa, offered a mini prompt from Pablo Neruda’s wonderful poem The Wide Ocean:
“Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit of your gifts and destructions…”
The Truth About Tigers 
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