Sunday, 16 February 2014


from the depths

in pitter-patter footsteps 
and light-hearted

and woven words  
and gentle laughter

and dream-magic 
shadow silhouettes

and wafts of mud pies  
and green grass 
and sun-drenched backyard 
wooden steps . . .

my sweet memories  
come to me

and float  
like bubbles on a breeze

– lovely – and then . . . 

photo:  Burnaby Mountain Park Poof - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke


  1. smiles. their childhood doesnt last long does it. my boys are 9 and 11...and i watch them grow daily...further and further from that pitter patter.

  2. I think some of our fondest memories, somehow follow a trail back to childhood. Thanks, Brian.

  3. Aww, sweet good to have them, but yes...there is that bit of sadness/wistfulness that those times are only memories now.

    "and float
    like bubbles on a breeze

    – lovely – and then . . .


    That is perfect, exactly how it feels.

  4. Yes, some of the sweetest memories can leave one feeling rather wistful. Sigh.

  5. Yes about those memories!
    But at least your charming poem is here to stay as well as your gorgeous photo.

  6. Thank you, Janet. What a lovely thought.

  7. Something about that last word - poof - makes me sad. You're right, those memories just gone in a second. Your poem almost makes me want to wake my kids so we don't miss a minute…almost…instead, I'll let them sleep! Not sure they would appreciate me waking them when school is delayed!

    1. As I get older, I do find, that one does treasure those memories all the more. And, speaking personally, I am often surprised by the little things one remembers with such heartfelt poignancy - and the grand occasions that one can barely recall.

  8. Oh, I hear you about those sweet memories coming & being all so comforting....and then poof, they are gone. If only these memories would stay sweet forever...and always be accessible when we needed them.

    (Ha, and as for Leonard Cohen, don't tell anyone....he will always be my TRUE love. LOL. Bruno is only a fling. Smiles!!!)

  9. Oh, Mary - if only those sweet memories could be summoned forth - perfectly - when we need them most. If only . . .