Speaking of memories...

Ah, the place where memories wait
And oh, how dusty and sad some are
That once were so very bright and new

Some have fallen into fragments
Slivers of color, light, scent
Half forgotten feelings tickling dust-like
Bringing on an eruption of sneezes
Little emotional outbursts

Some few pieces have been joined
Wrong
Bits from different puzzles
Made into an erring picture
Something slightly out of place
Or time
Or the right place and time
But the wrong people

So confusing, sorting it all out.

One or two
Or a dozen or more
Lurk in the corners
Waiting with teeth
And claws
For unwary pokes
And prods

And there are always cobwebs
In the face.