You filled us with stories
poured to us in the chipped glass of your childhood
aged over time
but still perfect

and we will ask you
over and over
and you’ll keep telling us
until we can point out the things you’ve left out
and the parts that we like

until there comes a time
when we can pour them out to our own children
in their plastic bottles
like they’re ours.

until life takes you away to a time
when remembering yourself becomes out of reach
along with the way your voice caressed each moment
and held on to each word
you will forget

but we’ll know