This soft black leather chair in which I sit,
Will jettison me to my days gone by.
With heavy eyes my mind begins to roam,
Not ever certain where it will take me.
Over several years recently past,
I am seeing memories through a veil,
Like my grandmother’s favorite curtains,
Aged by the sun and not perfectly pure.
In the crowd of faces some are obscured.
Not sure of who or when, faintly confused.
Then there are those who are frozen in time.
Through remaining years they will surely stay.
The longer I think the lower I sink,
Into dreams that are fully distorted,
Or are they but my confused memories,
Because the curtain is getting darker.
There will come a time, never knowing when
The translucent curtain will be a drape,
The day when my long past will not matter.
It shall be what the future will provide.