Do you remember,
the last time their lonely eyes lit up
with mirth, the slow creeping smile?
Or that trek over the rickety bridge,
old with it’s years, coughing wooden dust?
Do you remember to hum to that tune
the now broken radio played.
That tune you said, reminded you of
sunsets and starry skies, of me?
Do you still revel in the smell the rain,
the pages from a new book,
freshly brewed coffee,
the winter air?
Do you recall the last time you
picked sea shells by your favourite alcove?
where the sun beat down on the sandcastles
and the seagulls sung over glistening waves?
Or perhaps all of it are a distant haze,
in an illusion of negative images, streaked with gray.
A lifetime of remembering and forgetting,
Leaving behind and being left behind,
Letting go and holding on.
A walk down the sepia lane
and idealistic nostalgia only age affords.
But I’m afraid they now have been long forgotten.