But what if I remember a thousand words better than a picture?

Is it then the words or the picture that says the most?

To me, it is the words.

When I remember my childhood home, I describe it to myself.

I don’t see it – but I can tell you what it looked like.

The stairs right inside the door, to the left, curving up.

The banister’s dark polished wood – and how many times I have polished it.

I actually liked doing that. Sometimes at least. Bringing the lustre out of the wood.

Where the light switches were. Which cupboard held what.

The colour of the walls in the dining room, the kitchen, the office –

White, then yellow, raspberry, dusty blue.

I can describe the feeling of sitting in the window sill in my classroom in high school

How it made me happy and warm sitting there.

Not just because of my friends and the radiator

But because of my first youthful love sitting there with me, holding hands in plain view.

Let me tell you – it was joy when she smiled her brilliant smile to me.

Even if I don’t see them

I can tell you all of this and more.

I can quote you lines that have given me goosebumps.

I can laugh the laughs we shared, sing the songs, recount the adventures.

Oh, I have grown advanced and embrace technology

I put the pictures of now into my camera and save them until they become then

And I can look at them and remember how it was

So that I can tell you the story about it.

In my own words.

Poetry by Various Contributors Archive

Santragenius V

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