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Memory Lane

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Published in MSPS Anthology
  Gems from the Past - 2006

Wandering memory lane, childhood days of yore; Aunt Minnie and Uncle Carl whose spirits go before. Grandfather, stoic and silent; Grandmother, full of chatter. granting to us a legacy of conduct and values which matter. Wistfully, I walk the lane, gathering into my heart visions of carefree days, to fill my rolling cart. When clouds hide the path and my wheels hit a snag, I'll pull out loving memories, banish thoughts that drag. Memory road is congested, we must guide the sleigh through centuries of lessons and throw the trash away.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 1/29/2016 3:03:00 PM
Your yore is better than mine... Cheers
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Cona Adams
Date: 1/30/2016 6:12:00 AM
Thanks for the visit, Pashang Salehi. I took my own advice, and "threw the trash away" and simply focused on the good. God is my strength, and he helped me over the rough spots. Blessings to you.
Date: 4/7/2015 10:27:00 AM
Quite an enjoyable read, feelings of nostalgia :)
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Lizzy Love
Date: 4/7/2015 12:37:00 PM
awww thanx so much sweets! :)
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Lizzy Love
Date: 4/7/2015 12:37:00 PM
My pleasure! :)
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Cona Adams
Date: 4/7/2015 12:27:00 PM
Thanks for reading and commenting, Lizzy Love. Great name, by the way.
Date: 3/19/2015 9:54:00 AM
Thanks so much, Connie, for visiting to read. Yes, I've written many poems about my mom and only brother. She lived to 93, but he died when he was my age. He was only 18 months older than I, so it was a wake-up call. But you are so right. Poetry and memories keep them alive in our hearts.
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Date: 3/18/2015 5:08:00 PM
My memories mingled with yours as I read this poem, I longed for my own aunt Minnie who passed away three years ago. Poetry and our memories keep them alive. Thank you Cona, for taking me with you down memory lane. I was moved by your words.
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Date: 3/12/2015 6:33:00 PM
nice one, cona! i especially love the 4th verse...
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Cona Adams
Date: 3/13/2015 4:17:00 AM
Hello, Ilene. Thanks for visiting. In this technical world we live in, with everything rolling into the "clouds" our memories may be the only thing we have left. I'm so grateful for poetry soup. All the best to you.

Book: Shattered Sighs