One Man’s Memories

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One man’s memories

Selective and subjective

Just ask Mr. Trump

He can’t remember what he

Says from one day to the next


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Between Joy And Sadness Is Life

Between joy and sadness is life

Mundane and mindless

Shopping at the market

Shuttling kids from event to event

Paying the bills

Cleaning the gutters

Washing the laundry

Not to be taken for granted

Even the banal can make memories


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~



Ghosts are haunting me

Are they real or imaged

What does it matter

Things long dead keep appearing

Wanting to rejoin this life

This can’t be allowed

The past must be left buried

Buried forever

Like the fate of all dead things

To rest in peace–eternal


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


A Weathered Key

A weathered key turned in a worn out lock;

Rusty hinges creak as the lid is gingerly raised,

Aged dust drawn as if by vacuum fills the musty air,

Like so many travellers on their worldly journey.

This steamer trunk long forgotten;

Adorned with France, Belgium, Canada, Japan…

Reminders of its travels and the sights it has seen.

Memories of good times,

Memories of some not so good,

Memories of long nights,

Smoke filled taverns,

Exotic women,

Exhilaration in the unknown,

Glorious sunsets,

Distant shores,

Warm breezes,

Tearful goodbyes,

This musty old trunk, like my mind

Covets memories of days-gone-by.

Perhaps they too are weathered and worn,

Adorned with tattered tags of my life’s travels,

And relegated to a dingy attic,

But they are mine and mine alone

To cherish all the days of my life.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Who Was I Before I Was Me

Who was I before I was me?

I see myself out-of-body,

Living events not of my time.

I am watching myself from behind

A small boy staring at a black and white TV, all alone.

President Kennedy has been pronounced dead,

I have seen this vision for as long as I can remember,

Seven months before my birth.


It seems so real–it seems like yesterday.

Perhaps a figment of my imagination

Or perhaps a fragment of a past life;

A crossover from another time..

There is so much I don’t understand,

So much that can’t be disproven with science

I sense that I am far older than my calendar years

Though how much I do not know.

Hence my neverending question persists…

Who I was before I was me?


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Dust And Cobwebs

Dust and cobwebs

Years passed

Forgotten to time

Unassuming vessel


Garments out of style

Mementos and trinkets

Sharing the tomb

Still life memories

Black, white,

Faded color

Youthful exuberance


Relegated to history



Smiles and hugs

Lasting impressions

Sense of pride

Who we are

Who we were

Who we will be

Simple attic

Dirty and dark

Meaningless to others

Family heirlooms


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~



You see a face,

Weathered, showing the wear of time,

Wrinkles carved like dry rivers

Affixing character to a once youthful landscape.


Soft skin hands, wipe the sweat from the brow,

Long since retired from hard work,

Thin and gnarled,

They are more bone than flesh,

Still their past loveliness remains.


Hunched, from the years

And back breaking work

It’s a struggle just to stand up,

Yet there is nary a complaint uttered

Thankful just to have lived.


“Come with me”, said in whispered tone,

Taking a frail trembling arm in compliance,

Photographs yellowed, faded show glorious youth,

Beauty, fifty years past gleams brightly in your eyes

Though the blue is less brilliant.


“This was me”, as if unrecognizable

Pointing with an arthritic finger

Leading to story upon story.

“You see a face…”, spoken with a smile,

“But I am so much more…”


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~