The past is still alive in me,
by Patti Masterman
Wild and free, like a high country,
Hidden somewhere deep indeed:
An incredibly potent seed.
The past, it moves within it's arc
Through each moment, brave or stark,
Past each daytime, past each dark,
On stately tracks it can't depart.
The past is still alive inside,
Grand but humble, narrow but wide;
A place that in me must abide
Where the gabled memories sigh.