Memories

Coming back to this place,
these people,
these sights.
I remember not wanting.
Not wanting what I thought,
was small and meager.
The center,
the schools,
All the wonders I had,
I had taken for granted.

Looking back on the life,
that I once had,
I know it is the life,
that I now thrive for.
Everything I desire now,
is no longer significant.
My love for my old life,
is even more imperative,
than my selfish requests.

Remembering the library,
full of memories,
which no longer stands.
Remembering the oak tree,
where my friends and I once sat,
uprooted for a fountain.

Memories flood in.
Memories that cannot be bought.
Memories so heartwarming,
that remembering a mere detail,
would make anyone weep.

Memories,
that eventually turn into stories.
Stories that resemble childhood dreams.
Stories that resemble the life of a loved one,
who has gone,
out of the stream of time.
Heartfelt memories,
that come from the soul.

Coming back to this place,
these people,
these sights.
I remember not wanting.
Not wanting what I thought,
was small and meager.
The memories,
the stories,
All the wonders I had,
I had taken for granted.
And just like that,
it was gone.
The life I once had,
was gone.
I have nothing essential from it.
Accept my memories.