The Diver

In these times
Of abject isolation
I often become a diver
Plunging deep into
The sea of memories
That is my lonely mind

Memories of experiences
Some bitter some sweet
A few victories savored
The rest hasty retreats
Rare jewels, scattered
At the bottom of the ocean

Memories of the family
And of quaint traditions
I would leave in search of
Meaning never to be found
Timeless treasures, buried
In the silt of existence

Memories of friendships
Some old and some new
Some tended with care
Others happy accidents
Lustrous pearls, concealed
In closed-up clam shells

Memories of love
Of hearts palpitating
Of promises made
So few kept, so many broken
Precious doubloons, hidden
In some dead pirate’s chest

Breathless with their beauty
I scramble up yet again
To breathe the inert air
Of my utter seclusion