Memories screech in circles,
Memories lived, memories not lived.
For memories not lived 
I see a beauty of what could be,
I behold a promise not made.
Memories lived and felt remain
Deep in the heart with outpourings of affection.
These affections offer a promise not made
Of memories not lived.
As the downpour ensues
I hold onto both memories.
As the billows intensify 
I hold on tightly with all my strength.