Tales of the heart

She told me stories
Amazing places where in my mind
I would explore each crack and crevice
Searching for the magic
In each story she spun.
I tried to remember these amazing fables
But as a child I could not,
So she took a pen to paper
And stayed up each night
Writing them down,
Each tale of children and animals
And castles….
And then she gave them to me,
My personal trove of cherished stories.
I would sit out in the summer sun
Under a tree and read and then re read each one.
Magical days in the country,
My stories and I
Mind escapes to paradise,
The once upon a time
And happily ever afters.
Forty years gone by now,
And I do not remember any of them,
Not a single one.
But I remember the feel of the pages,
Her beautiful writing,
unmistakable mother cursive.
I remember the joy I felt
And I am sad for the lost stories,
Maybe somewhere in a dark corner of my mind
They hide waiting for me to return
To days when my head is not so cluttered and full,
For days when I will be ready
To explore the magic once more.