Beautiful are the memories,
I hold within myself.
Remembering only with a glance,
looking through the photos that
appear upon my shelf.

Gentle becomes the pain,
as the bad times come into view.
Replaced only by laughter
of things so old and still so new.

Tears that become streams of flowers,
descending down my face.
I have found in these memories that
I have found such a wonderful and
warm embrace.