Look out across the landscape of memory-
there is so much to see.
High mountains of grandiose accomplishments
and valleys of sorrow deep.
Rivers of emotion cut through it all,
in places creating a torrential waterfall,
and then sometimes the flow is gentle,
creating a subdued murmuring stream.
There are trees which have grown green and tall,
made strong by bending to the winds of change.
And there are those trees that did fall,
stubbornly withstanding the wind only to break.
The view will always look different,
depending on weather, season, or time of day.
All it takes is a new perspective,
and even the past can change.
And while this poem started out
with the potential to be great,
I’m too tired now to figure the rest out-
why did I decide to write a poem every day?