Bound by high walls, at the back of the mind,
Are some memories that should never unwind,
Sometimes forgotten, sometimes ignored,
They remain dormant unless lured,
By the scent of rain, the sight of light,
The feel of an evening breeze maybe,
The sound of laugh, the touch of wood,
Slowly the memories begin to take over thee.

No Comments Yet.

What do you think?

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

%d bloggers like this: