The treasured memories of all the places I visit,

Soothe my tired mind that oft seems dim lit,

The colors I see and the songs I hear–

the grim reality, they tend to blur.

One such memory seems deeply ingrained,

It tugs at my heartstrings in ways unexplained.

It’s about a teacher who gave me an ephemeral life’s prelude.

I speak with her time and again during times of solitude.

 

Auburns, crimsons down yonder,

The shades of autumn still simmer,

Colors of fall that I witnessed in Blue Ridge Parkway,

Still susurrate and seem to sway.

Like a demure bride nature speaks in whispers,

About transience of life she gives me insightful lectures,

She asks me to mindfully dwell in the present,

Swinging along with the life buoyant,

The cycle of life she subtly portrays,

Asks me to dwell in mirthful moments,slowing my pace,

Her profound lesson now I comprehend,

And cherish my mortal days evanescent.

 

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