Memory

by Matt Harvey and Contributors

My memories are like the butterflies on the wind which keep blowing away from me.

Spring memories of green bubbles on the ends of branches, autumn memories of dying leaves like “flat” coca cola, forget me not even though I forget you.

They said “forget me not” so what did I do? I forgot you!

If you can’t hold on to it all….remember the good stuff and let the bad stuff go.

Memories of childhood, my mum and dad are memories that will last and last.

Mo mother has dementia it’s not a lot of fun, especially when in hospital just sitting on her bum!

Please stop and see because it is my life, this is me!

My smile is my hidden treasure, sometimes sad times, sometimes pleasures.

I still remember how to love and be loved, kiss and be kissed, hug and be hugged.

My mind is gone but I’m still here

Don’t let me sit are stare; care.

Who am I? Who are you? What are we doing here? How did we get here? Who am I?

Memory – what would I do without it, it guides me day.

Where to I begin? I am my memories and dreams, mind over matter or matter over mind?

Those who live longest see the most.

Sepia faded pictures that now sparkle and come alive.

I never knew you did that.

Floating back through innocence.

My life has a plan, but it has slipped from my mind.

I’d tell you the answer if only I could remember the question!

Is it my problem or yours that I can’t remember?

I am still me.

Who are you? Have we met? Is it time to go to bed?

Speak to me and I will answer you.

What would you like me to call you?

She forgot why she was there but always remembered my name.

I haven’t a memory, it’s a forgetting.

My memory’s on a memory stick.

Memory is personal but when shared can be uplifting and enlightening.

Memoria: the fragments of past weaving with present who you are.

Memories all alone on the pavement, lonely and cold, lost my way.

I only what to remember the good times and happy things.

Some things are best forgot.

Make every moment matter as if it is a precious memory.

Memory’s an ocean, frilly edges and unseen depths. Where do I keep mine? Limbs? Skin? Eyes?

Who am I? A mother, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a carer, a friend – Remember Me!

My memories are the most valuable things I own.

I want to get up, open the door and enter the room, but where’s the key?

I’m really sorry but I can’t remember anything, I am my memories and dreams.

Memories matter, mercy matter more.

My part memories are me now.

Let my last memory be a good one.