When You Come

When You Come
by Maya Angelou

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.

Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words,

I CRY.


I didn't write this poem, obviously. Maya Angelou is the brilliance behind it, but I love it. I never really liked poetry, still am not a huge fan, but I have come to appreciate it as I have gotten older and as a writer even tried my own hand at poetry writing.

This poem was in a book that I picked up awhile ago, a collection of her poetry and for some reason it spoke right to my heart. Haven't we all been in this place? Someone or something, or maybe just the memory itself, takes us back to a spot in our past, good or bad. We are hurled back and just as a child is drawn to an interesting place, like an attic in the poem, we can't help ourselves the looking back, the gathering of feelings, the heartache, and the splendor.

I hope you can appreciate the poem, maybe connect with it in your own way. For me, it is summation of a journey I began a few months back and am still on...the journey back to myself, through my past. And yes, along the way, I cry. I cry buckets of tears, some are silent and secret, some are loud and meant to be shared, but they all wash the pain away and help me see clear.

Living Happily In the Moment!
Bev