In Memory Of The Good Times

When I think of you,
I remember the bad times first.
Slamming doors,
Hidden tears,
Words sharp as knives.

But the good times are not lost to those memories.

I remember our mornings before work,
Hot coffee and cigarettes on a cold, winter day before the sun came up.
We would chat about nothing as we sipped and puffed away.
Those first silent moments of the day were always special to me.

I remember our late nights,
Ripping through abandoned roads on two wheels.
The only sounds were the crickets and our exhausts.

I remember the hot asphalt
and the rattling of chains
when we would cruise for the hell of it.

I remember the first time we held our baby girl.
The tears in both our eyes said everything our voices couldn’t.

Part of me yearns to have those days back.
I know I can’t relive the glory days,
But thanks for the memories.