By Wilbur Dick Nesbit
All to myself, I find the way
Back to each golden yesterday,
Faring in fancy until I stand
Clasping your ready, friendly hand;
The picture seems half true, half dream,
And I keep its color and its gleam
All to myself.
All to myself I hum again
Fragments of some old-time refrain,
Something that comes at fancy’s choice,
And I hear the cadence of your voice:
Sometimes ’tis dim, something ’tis clear,
But I keep the music I hear
All to myself.
All to myself I hold and know
All of the days of long ago-
Wonderfull days when you and I
Owned all the sunshine in the sky:
The days come back as the old days will,
And I keep their tingle and their thrill
All to myself.
All to myself! My friend, do you
Count all the memories softly, too?
Summer and Autumn, Winter, Spring,
The hopes we cherish, and everthing?
They course my veins as a draft divine,
And I keep them wholly, solely mine-
All to myself.
All to myself I think of you,
Think of the things we used to do,
Think of the things we used to say,
Think of each happy, bygone day;
Sometimes I sigh and sometimes I smile,
But I keep each olden, golden while
All to myself.
Prompt: Write a poem describing memory, either a specific one or just in general
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