A rattle of skeletons 
live in my closet.
it doesn’t bother me,
they were companions
from my past,
a memoir in a scrapbook,
a reminder we cannot forget,
to bring to life, to live, to love.
I like to take them out
and walk with them
down Nostalgia Avenue
and Memory Lane,
recall old friends 
and conflicts,
battles fought,
won and lost.
They teach me
every day,
remind me 
of their presence,
my transient existence,
my own impermanence.


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