Stirring Up Memories Poem by Joseph Anderson

A rustling breeze is stirring trees,
It hastens falling autumn leaves;
Here comes those stirring memories
That lets the past unfold.

I yearn for them, from time to time.
They come to me, as if in mime
And flow together, like a rhyme;
A treasure to behold.

I sort the pleasant from the sad;
Discard the doleful, keep the glad,
Aware that many I have had
Are from a different mold.

A pleasure can be had from this,
Much joy, contentment, even bliss;
I try, but seldom can resist-
These treasures to behold,
This comfort for the old.