who broke their leg climbing the pepper tree
who learned things with wheels make poor ladders
who knew the best use for a pile of raked leaves
who’s eating that bagel no matter what
who’s holding hands, with her
who can’t believe, who does
who drew circles with his fingerprints
who wanders inside that thought
who’s looking for eggs in the grass
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 
Wonderful! Love this.
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Sometimes memory just wants to be let loose, wandering like a child. Thanks Cindy.
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Lovely, lovely, lovely! It’s like being dropped into the pool of your memories and floating a bit.
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You too. You are one of my memories. See, that’s how circles work. Without all of us, the circle doesn’t come home. I believe in participation.
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Connection. The cords that bind one memory to the next. That’s what makes life interesting.
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