Sometimes somethings leave an indelible mark on your mind,
Decades pass by and memories of them are closely intertwined,

The images are vivid,
Your reaction to them avid,

One such image is of my childhood painting,
Of an old rustic wooden barn sitting,
Sitting against a yellow orange backdrop,
Of fallen autumn leaves and a freshly painted fence prop,

This image in my friend’s mind was vivid,
And after thirty years she saw it on my wall but can’t say her reaction was avid,

It was the same painting,
But something in it was wanting,
Could it be the colour had faded?
Or the passing years made it jaded,

Could it be because we’ve seen more now,
Seen better, more versant that it’s lost its charm somehow?