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    Aditus
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Fireworks & Rain - 5. Dates

Why are some

events noteworthy,

so much so that still after

countless years, and even centuries,

we constantly remember

or are reminded-

forcibly?

 

We’ll never

do that anymore

having found out the hard way:

what the meaning of penitence is

by having to endure grief

and utter sorrow

yet again.

 

So I will

remember fondly

that special moment in life

the joy, the thrill, and sheer awesomeness

of all those funny odd firsts

glances, kisses, sex

yet again.

Copyright © 2022 Aditus; All Rights Reserved.
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Thank you for reading even though/ because of/ it's a poem or just to take a look.
Everything that sounds/is off is entirely my doing.
Any reaction is very much appreciated.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Life is about making memories. The good, the bad, the sad, and the ugly. Reflecting on our past is a life well lived. Beautiful series of poems. Thank you for sharing 

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17 hours ago, Headstall said:

I'm terrible with actual dates, but I remember all my firsts, and some memories are on a loop when I go to bed at night. I sometimes wake up with an ache for things passed, but it is usually a sweet ache. Memories are treasures that help us make sense of our lives as we turn them to see from every angle. Loss makes gain sweeter, but it's not always easy to appreciate. We need to hold on, yet we must let go. Sigh.

Another great poem... I appreciated all of your efforts here. You are a superb poet who communicates skillfully. Cheers! 

Thank you, Gary.

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5 hours ago, Leo622 said:

Life is about making memories. The good, the bad, the sad, and the ugly. Reflecting on our past is a life well lived. Beautiful series of poems. Thank you for sharing 

Thank YOU for reading and taking the time to comment, Leo. :)

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