The rose grows lovely and lush,
Smelling as sweet as sin.
It will bite you with its thorns.
A corpse flower, putrid and dank,
looking as lovely as a lounging lady.
The balance of beauty.

The Moon is cold, empty, and dark,
Yet glows with Solar radiance.
The Sun is life-giver and cancer-maker.
The levels of life.

Winter: dead outside, but
Snowmen and hot cocoa inside.
Spring: lush and green,
With flowers bursting at the seam.
But the bugs are back.
Swimming at the beach while sweating
and sizzling on the sand all Summer.
Autumn holds the heat at bay,
The trees turn into a bright array,
But the days are short and hide their beauty away.

Who is to choose what Life has to offer?
The light isn’t so different from the dark,
both have their ups and their downs,
they are all a part of Nature’s Contrast,
Our contract with the natural world.
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Harken back to yesteryear:
The joys of childhood,
The pangs of adolescence.

Revel and frolic in your visions:
Superheroes dashing about the yard,
Climbing trees that were skyscrapers.

Relive and recoil at your nightmares:
A tender note; rejected.
Peals of laughter as schoolwork is sent scattered.

As you travel back in time,
The good gets better.
The bad gets worse.

We recraft our memories each time we recall them.
Did you never scrape your knees on those trees?
Did no one ever love you back?

Memories are malleable.
We can change them.
Though they depict the past,
They are not written in stone.

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