Memories-- A Poem

[lunesque]

It's late tonight--
the streets are silent roads of muted gray,
and my head and heart are filled to the brim with the past.

It's strange,
how the memories return from their cobwebbed corners,
how laughter is pressed into the creases of old photographs,
how trust is lined in letters with faded ink.

There is so much here,
lost in this quiet...
and I find myself
a f r a i d
to break the hush.

Tomorrow, I will sleep late (again)
and I will lose the sense of what I was
to return to the shell of what I am.

(But when I close my eyes,
yesterday is there,
bleeding off the edges of the page.

It feels like coming home.)