Memories are like treasures buried in your mind.
The more you look at them and hold them,
The more polished will they appear, until they one day
Outshine the reality that birthed them.
To me, this is a reasonable magic that lets our life story
Shine just a little bit more beautifully.
The road to Heaven is
The old country road
I walked every day as a little girl.
The dandelions, the weeds,
Morning light through
A secret triumph and a song
Through silvered forest.
Two sets of rubber boots
Wading through feather-light
And I follow obediently
The course of the autumn
Without even asking
Who is calling me up there,
Perhaps it is just granny
Telling me that the pancakes