sure, the memories
but, the smell, the taste, the touch,
all still left to make believe
I miss…
the very start
opening characters, scene one
greener grass, the bluest skies, salty ocean
that street light at night where I would measure my shadow to the tip of the moon
those flaked fences, white
a particular damp night sky that I loved and haven’t smelt in a long, long time
tipped-toed curbs, run past the shop
yes, my eyes could go blind and I would still make it anyway
follow the path by memory alone…to my home
grab a bunch of those crazy flowers along the way
but now, I can only recount
because tomorrow had to come
and now strangers walk about
like I was never even there