The memories you’ve gather over time,
storing away like trinkets in the attic,
have been exposed to the sun for too long
and now are fading away

They used to be so vibrant
you could wrap yourself up in a memory
and feel it sink into your bones
Now the cloth is thin and tearing

You can recall that vacation when you were nine-
the hills were never-ending and the water was clear-
but what sound did the wind make
when you’d climbed to the very top?

You’ll lost more details overtime
They’ll slip through your fingers like warm sand
And you’ll lie awake at night,
waiting to be told what you’re missing

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