Sepia Stained Memories by Amanda K. Dudley-Penn

I close my eyes and see beautiful lace.

When I danced with a five-year old’s grace.

In that old living room, I twirled around.

Dressed like you I fell to the ground. 

Sometimes, I see us in the sunlight.

Your hands are moving gently left and right.

Tying flowers and making chains.

I am waiting to be crowned a princess again. 

And sometimes, I view those hands reach up high.

As the rain drops down to touch you from the sky.

Your laughter rings out and mesmerizes me.

You taught me to dance in the rain and be carefree.

Then, there is the taste of ice cream made of snow

And a touch of warmth after the cold.

Or the Christmas tree with lights so bright.

Presents piled on Christmas Eve night.

Your songs so beautiful as we fell into sleep

Lullabies that followed into my dreams.

Or stories by you as slumber awaits.

Or crochet needles and crafts that you made.

These images are too precious to be captured in pictures for me.

They are more precious than sepia stained memories.