Won’t come back again


Old photographs slip through her fingers,

Scattered at her feet, swirling dizzyingly;

It could have been another life, but it was hers.

Slowly the pictures blur, ‘til hundreds look like only one;

A kaleidoscope of images telling a thousand things,

Jumbled storylines, what she’d done –

She closes her eyes, but the colours stay;

She remembers the squeak of her pencil,

Tiny moments, seconds, a day

The itch of a sweater, the taste of a cake

She breaches the years in flashbacks;

Snippets of conversation, a muddy lake

She remembers the delirious joy,

The perfect innocence of a little girl

Back when she was Helen of Troy –

Back when she was everything.

But it’s all gone now;

Nothing’s left but the silent sting,

Knowing that little girl won’t come back again.

~ Ilana Reimer 


One thought on “Won’t come back again

  1. Marjorie Walker

    Ilana, Rebecca and I both loved this poem. We’ve talked about our memories of how wonderful it was–as small girls–to have images and events fill our whole consciousness (Becca’s phrase) instead of having a part of it reserved to observe and comment. That division in our adult lives is probably both a reader’s/writer’s blessing and misfortune, at least it is in my case…the need to evaluate and express the event even while it’s happening. I thought you conveyed the childhood glory of those moments with respect and wonder. Blessings, Marjorie Date: Fri, 30 May 2014 19:08:19 +0000 To: essay.walker@sympatico.ca

    Liked by 1 person

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