Time is a funny thing.
It hurtles forward, an unstoppable force.
Pushing, adjusting,
Yet memories linger
like ghostly outlines of pictures
once hung on crumbling walls.
Moments in history, frozen forever in
a distant, rose-tinted world.
Thick with years of time’s grimy dust,
Altering images.
Skewing perceptions.
But some things travel with us through time -
people, places, smells, faces.
Like flashes of sticky beer mats
soaking up spills while
floppy-haired boys play guitars.
And you.
You are there – sparkling eyes, glowing skin, a gorgeous smile
and hair!
Hair, so perfect.
Strange how these things somehow remain
Lodged somewhere in a drawer in my brain.
Snippets of a past time
a past life.
Hazy, carefree days.
Time is a funny thing.
Because the you I remember exists
only in my dust-covered thoughts
with the beer mats and bands.
That version of you was no longer there.
Not for years.
We evolve over time,
and those versions of ourselves remain
frozen
in the memories of those we met along the way.
Some more distant than others.
Some, like you, shine through.