Oh, memories—
a bundle of good and bad.
The good ones make you laugh.
The bad ones slowly lose their sting.

And then, somehow,
the good ones begin to make you cry.

Oh, memories—
I need a shoulder to lean on,
a place to rest my tears.
Go away, memories—
that shoulder is no longer there.

Some memories were chosen, others were not so
I never asked for the bad ones,
and yet they stayed.
Go away, bad memories—
you are no longer welcome.

The bad is still bad,
but now even the good feels heavy.
As we age and people slowly depart,
we lose the shoulders we once leaned on.

I see many faces.
They seem to smile.
But offer them your shoulder,
and soon you will feel it grow wet.

Oh memory,
I adored you.
I invested in you.
I treasured you.
So why do you feel so unkind now?

We traveled far together,
wove our lives deeply,
turning moments into memories.
We believed we would hold them forever,
hoping they would soothe us,
again and again.

Oh memory, don’t leave me—
even if you make me cry.
When you fade, they call me broken,
as if grieving means losing my mind.

Oh, memories—
you were once so sweet.
I wait for the day you return that way again.

And yet—
oh, memories—
I still want you. I want to build more.
I want to lay the old gently to rest
and cherish the new.

I look forward, with quiet hope,
to new memories—
memories yet to be born.