Reliquary


Searching long forgotten
Corridors of my mind;
Dappled shades of memories
Brush against my face.
How strange, being the visitor
In my own mind,
Feeling the gentle caresses
Of the unknown yet known.
Whisperings of the past

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This Poems Story

John Lynnis a retired Naval Aviator. He is graduate of the California Maritime Academy, an FAA certified commercial pilot, and is an artisan whose works have been sold in Manhatten Beach and Palo Verdes, California. He has been a traveller, who lived for six months on Syros, a Greek Island in Aegean, six months in England, then several months in Italy and France. A reliquaryis, by definition, a container for holy relics. 84 years into life, my memories are fading relics. For me, they are holy - at least 90 percent wonderful. My life has been good.