The voices of the past call me into the present. I begin to wonder what I was so determined to leave behind. Why would I hide the truth of who I am; it's all I have. And as I come upon the blessing of the return to my true home, I must accept what I find.
We lived our lives
In colors and scents
Conversations we wished would never end
Streets I've walked a thousand times
Don't seem so familiar any more
You look different my dear
What happened this year?
Cheeks flushed
Your mind Closed
Where are you headed, old friend?
Do you remember what you said to me last?
How the days come and only memories last.
Do you remember the lake and trees?
The photograph I snapped
And filed away
I hear your voice
And smile
Like a hurricane in my mind.
Oh the places we've been
The secrets we know
Sometimes I cringe
And the world knows
For a moment I am removed
Where are you going old friend?
Can I accompany you there?
Will you still want my words
The laughter and tears
Do you need me now
In the separation of years?
And what do I expect to find, gently drifting back to the place I once knew so well.
As we pass through our lives, we gather a list of places and events... memories kept deep inside. A part of who we become, a part of where we will go. But what leaves the greatest impression ? The friendly face across the table, cup in hand. The smile behind the camera, waiting to catch those who fall. The hand that's offered and held.. and held and held and held. The hands through hair, the powerful embrace. The knowing look. The laughter shared day after day. The motivation. The endless seas of inspiration. The fence quickly jumped. The swings that flowed in tandem. The eyes that knew. The words so loaded. The comprises. The moments spent reflecting. The love, the hate, the ecstacy. The trust. The evenings.
Evenings remind me of myself the most. Of the places I've been. Sun setting on a land so flat , seas of asphalt. Phrases said a thousand times. The stripmall horizon. That hill I slide down time after time. The lamp-post against the vibrant skies, a setting sun. Slow and quit songs. Loud and unforgettable memories.
Where are you headed, old friend?
____________________________________________________As we pass through our lives, we gather a list of places and events... memories kept deep inside. A part of who we become, a part of where we will go. But what leaves the greatest impression ? The friendly face across the table, cup in hand. The smile behind the camera, waiting to catch those who fall. The hand that's offered and held.. and held and held and held. The hands through hair, the powerful embrace. The knowing look. The laughter shared day after day. The motivation. The endless seas of inspiration. The fence quickly jumped. The swings that flowed in tandem. The eyes that knew. The words so loaded. The comprises. The moments spent reflecting. The love, the hate, the ecstacy. The trust. The evenings.
Evenings remind me of myself the most. Of the places I've been. Sun setting on a land so flat , seas of asphalt. Phrases said a thousand times. The stripmall horizon. That hill I slide down time after time. The lamp-post against the vibrant skies, a setting sun. Slow and quit songs. Loud and unforgettable memories.
Where are you headed, old friend?
"The past and present wilt-I have fill'd them, emptied them,
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)"
-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself.
____________________________________________________
May your path be long and winding.
पास
Mandy
