by Focus
© 2002 M. Myska, all rights reserved
I recall the good old days, when I was young and
strong.
Through faded memory's spotty haze, seems nothing then went
wrong.
Then I loved, and learned, and grew; then I made my choices.
Now looking back my mind is filled with loved ones lost, and
voices.
Grandparents died, and yet their love lives on
within my heart.
Some friends lost touch; perhaps they live, but now they live
apart.
A good friend died in airplane crash, which filled us all with
shock.
Yet her voice speaks on, in me. Her love is still my rock.
For all we meet affect our lives; they alter who
we are.
Change how we think, speak, act, and feel; each touch reaches
far.
Each one becomes a part of us. They make us who we be.
Now I must think how others change when they are touched by me.