Postscript

My memories do not make me sad,

But sometimes, I like to treasure them in silence.

I do not grieve over the past,

Though it has never lost the power to touch me.

I do not mean to seem distant.

It’s just that there are places in me

That you can never be a part of.

Do not be jealous because I was not waiting

While you made a past of your own.

The people that I have loved are my life,

And I am not about to give them up

For some vague promise of a possible future.

Like a fine bottle of some regal vintage,

We are not diminished

As we pass from hand to hand.

We are only aged and mellowed

As part of the long, slow process

Of becoming fit to be savored

By an educated palate.

IN MEMORIAM

Shirley Robinson Platt

1920-1985