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Activating The Memory I awoke this morning, feeling rather low. And opening the paper, began to read The happenings of the day before, when On a page my eyes were quickly lead. Obituaries are never a welcome sight, But unfortunately they do still exist; And one name seemed to actually jump out From what appears to be a seemingly endless list. This name brought back sweet mem’ries of Days gone by, when convenience was nil; Refrigerators were square, and messy with Saw dusted junks of ice, often needing a refill. This man I knew used to arrive at our door With bottles of milk, I mean real glass; He’d arrive with a smile and a cheery word And then the time of day he would pass. Later on in the week, we’d see the old wagon Clomping down the street behind the old mare; We’d get a chunk of ice to keep us amused, As we followed the old ice cart everywhere. He’d then lift out the neatly cut squares of Freshly cut ice, knowing what size would fit Each refrigerator that was along his route And, dripping through the house, would deliver it. Now, those were the days of innocence, my friends When children were allowed to play in the street; Policemen were respected and firemen awed, When neighbors once a week would plan to meet. The memory still remains of a beloved streetlight Beneath which hide and seek was played, when The curfew was sounded and all literally ran home Each scattering before the whistle could barely end. All of these things seemed fresh in my mind When I read of the death of this dear man; Then melancholia set in as awareness arose, I realized, sadly, we can never go back again. ~Twilah~
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