The Art of Remembering

I’m still a dorm, sorority, college girl in my memories.
They come in vivid colors and imagery.
It’s kind of nice to go back there and visit in my mind.
Visit the smells of art classes, turpentine,
linseed oil and ink. Listen to the movement
of a B pencil scrolling across drawing paper.
Watching instructors make it look so easy.
Elated over a drawing with a B-plus in the corner
of the paper and maybe a positive comment from the teacher.
I’ve carried it all throughout the years.
The memories leave me happy in the past and
joyful in the present.

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