Remembering Aunt Ellen

     I wrote this to one of the dearest people I ever knew.  She wasn't a biological aunt, but sweeter than any aunt I ever had.

                    She preferred to call them
                    "Old moments" and not
                                                     memories.
                    Memories are made to be
                       special, not painful, "
                                                    she'd smile.
                       The painful times were
                         to let pass, and
                                                    memories were
                       to hold on to and keep
                          in the mind's
                                                    hope chest.
                       As she would recall
                         the happy times,
                                                    I would listen
                      while she related
                         what had made her
                                                    life richer,
                       Then I would observe
                          the tears that formed
                                                   when the breeze
                        of "moments" would blow
                           some of life's dust
                                                  into her eyes.