How warm the comfort of familiar things,
the tenderness and ease of things we know.
With scant regard the eye moves swiftly by
whilst memory clothes the picture from within.

Watching this springtime cherry blossom dance
I do not see the petal whirl and fall,
this glimpse could be a snowflake or a leaf
but from the past its painted in for me.

Take time to watch the butterfly jerk by
and really see its splendour and its style,
the daffodil whose crinkled trumpet blows
the cobwebs from an overflowing mind.

Beware! The images steal so slowly on
as childhood slips away and age descends.
Eyes, though only dimmed, as well be blind
if trapped in the dusty library of the mind.


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