My Glasses

They are a pair of High Definition Televisions
Framed in bars of metallic red,
And connected by a silver bridge
It watched over me asleep in bed,
And show me the vivid memories glowing in excitement:
The azure coloured sky parallel to the glittering ocean,
Smoky swirls of colourless storm clouds circling in the heavens,
Concentrations of congregations swarming in the city,
Pillars of blinding sunlight spurting from my bedroom curtains,
And the delicate fine petals of the baby’s breath flower
But without them, the precious memories are blurred and fuzzy
That’s why they are an important part of me,
A treasure-box of a thousand individual memories,
tightly wrapped and always remaining beside my mind.