I sometimes walk along quiet paths a darker me once carved.
The memories stored on monochrome slides, like old
history tapes of times I didn't live in.
I retrace my footprints, making steps on steps that nature weathered away.
Creating my existence again, where the world tried to hide
it.
When I reach my secret place, the shades become bright
stains,
On places of my mind , I once all but forgot.
I see where I once sat, where I was devoured by the earth,
in holes that I once dug.
Being reminded of memories, thoughts that I once thought.
I see my fort, decaying,
Palm tree windows growing over, hiding the view to the inside room
Pathetic fort, reflecting the soul that carved its
caverns,
And then I realize, the memory is just a forest, growing over,
not wanting to remember you.
A lost dream, now covered in shrubs.