We Were Children

It’s nearly 2am and as the rain pitter-patters along the corners of my window ledges they remind me if faint memories. 
From them I move on.

Somehow we’ve grown as people, huh?

Doors close, chapters end.

Dirt rolls of the body in a bath of time stained storys bleached by the sun barely recognizable.

The only thing resonating in those now hollow spaces of the mind is laughter. Yet somehow filled within the cracks is the sweet smell of summer grass. The motion of twirling and smiling left behind each time I pass through the wooden door frame of the untamed garden.

I send silent prayers asking for things I no longer remember.

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