memory

those moments,
you know the ones.
they catch in the light,
sparkling, swirling
like dust,
they're trapped there,
until you catch them up,
or until you want
to. Then they're
gone. Smoke in the
air, pungent and
tangible,
stirred by my breath
and rustling.
My tree, leaves
blowing.
Full summertime, my
memories are there,
ready to be plucked.
The fall is coming,
turning them shades of sunsets.
Winter, with my
memories fallen; gone.
Caught in the air
and shivering.
they're flighty,
those memories.

i know that doesnt make a lot of sense. OR any at all. But i just got to writing and thinking, and i just put whatever came to mind on my paper. Or well, the digital paper. you know what I mean. I really needed to make some sense of the words that decorate my arm. I love my words.