Poems need to grow up and stand by themselves without explainings. Here’s a poem that stands alone, but maybe is better annotated, just shy of pinning it down with one meaning.
Welcome to
the random flow
where memory
is like a cotton candy machine
weaving sweet spidery strands
into the deep labyrinth.
and here’s a bit of image with the text
This poem was inspired by another one I wrote about telescopes. Happily, that poem was annotated by @dogtrax and @tutormentorteam
These texts and images and memories really are a slice of life, but they are also a patching of life. We cut them from the fabric of our memory and crazy quilt them onto some other colorful, patterned patch of something pulled from the bottom of the scrap bag.

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And, of course, memories are bogus anyway. Don’t want to burst your bubble, or maybe I do. The image you chose for this is very cool!
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patches with found threads …
Kevin
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Found q huge wolf spider on the log wall of my office. I could see his eyes studying mine. I looked away and back. Gone. Nary a thread. Invisible mending.