This part of the poem keeps playing back in my head:
Memories surge,
but single-file.
Verdure of mind,
cerulean waves
to bypass the turnstile.
We walk down the paths of life and remember one by one lost memories on this day already past with the blowing of the wind.
The rising sun shines two days later bringing warmth, light and hope to a longer day and even brighter smile to those who will pass by on my next path.