A Choice of Memories

I remember the kiss.
Even at my age, with all that has filled my life,
I remember the kiss.

In fact, I remember nearly all of them.
The tender. The passionate.
The first one. The one I left you with
just the shortest time ago.

With so much to remember,
we have to make choices
of what remains, and what to let go.

I remember the kiss.

About this poem

I am in a strange place today. It is like a set of memories or thoughts are trying to plow through my thick head and a long life, and are not quite within grasp. But while pondering, the great kisses of my life came to mind.

There was a time that would not have been the case. When other, less passionate things would rise to the top instead. I consider this an improvement.

The painting is one of mine. Love’s Epiphany, a watercolor.

Tom