Something we cannot live without.
Yet we often forget the ones that mean the most.
Where do they go?
Is it inevitable to be left with just those bad ones,
Or those whose significance is almost none existing.
Or does our constant memory loss help us?
Maybe that is why I can remember,
Remember the scent of dandruff on grey hair.
Maybe that is why I know,
Know the aroma of my lover’s sweet touch
And my mother’s warm embrace.
They serve us more than we know.
They hold so much pain and love.
They are the purpose of living.
In response to Memory!