Snippets of memories
return randomly
mimmicking
fluttering butterflies
complete in colorful adornment
showing up out of nowhere
unannounced
but perfectly welcome

Rhythmic notions
quietly dancing
in the forefront of vision
One blink
they've disappeared
yet they linger
as afterglow

Then
stinging thoughts return
like hungry
pestering insects
draining me dry
in persistent
blood sucking
irritations

The choice- mine
Do I focus
on what is lovely-
that which is pure

or allow
the sting of past
to frustrate my senses?