|March 8th, 1999|
Memories of More than One
by David P. Salamone
Atfourteen and there was no thought of importance,
Of this feeling as I would don fly vest for the first time,
Place rod in hand while approaching stream,
Just for the sake of being there for no other.
Howgreat was this quest to become?
After first cast of streamer through air,
Covering waters unfamiliar was far from mind.
Not knowing anything more was to come of it,
Than just ordinary time spent in young solitude.
Now with age come flashbacks in time,
Of resplendent pleasure brought of such simple task.
Whatis this that caused heart to throb?
Blood to race when fish touched fly and line?
No thought given to this fleeting moment of time,
So long ago to memories thus created,
With such simple splendor of movement,
That forced their action into this old soul forever more.
Whatexulted purpose has this?
What will be missed when we no longer walk now familiar streams?
What will we do as we sit and draw only memories of this alone?
Think now of what might be changed.
Letnot those moments pass unheeded,
Share them now and forever,
So that when you can no longer cast or walk about,
You pass time with someone that has shared your pleasure.
Then will it matter what you have experienced from fourteen to eighty-four,
When you will finally realize that in place of solitude,
You shall have created something more.~David P. Salamone
River Bed by Dave Motes
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