I was a child,
I lingered on some black and white pictures.
Those pictures of unknown people...
faces of old times,
then, carefree, I went back to my games.
With the passing of the years,
became more and more.
I thought how sad those houses were,
I used to call them: houses of memories.
Getting rid of those images with a smile, I got back to my dreams.
Then...I started myself
having the same pictures too
and as time goes by, they become more and more.
Those I'm looking at now, are not pictures,
Joyful instants, stealed to time.
as marble plugs,
One after the other, fill my heart.
With life joys and with pain.
The house of memories is me.
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