The Diary on the Shelf
A word is just a passing thought
until you write it down.
A word expressing feelings, anger or disgust
or just an event around town.
The memories so fresh now it seems
may be blurred with the passing of time.
And hard you may try, you’ll never recall
For when you’re past your prime.
Reach out for a pen and jot it down.
And let memories freely flow
You may discover soon beyond these events
A memory that’s meant to grow.