“Imagined Memory” by Weijie Lin

My memories are tied
In bundles short and thick
And slotted up in shelves of stone
Too difficult to fix

I pick them out
To twirl through my head
They dart and swoop like soulless birds
Or silver fish in their stead

Accompanied by the tap of rain
The gray sheen of winter sky
Sharpened by petals of the white rose
On the tip of my finger fly

Take me back to freshly mowed snow
And scents of childhood smiles
The taste of pain, the scrape of gravel
On the road that stretched for miles