Because when you feel like you have no one,

You do have no one
But you.
And your memories
With you.

Why I don’t walk……
I don’t walk
Down the memory lane.

Deep unseen wells will spring up

and become visible
Where I trod.

And all-too-fertile vines of memory
Will sprout and cling to me

with their soft tendrils,
And bear happy fruit

of the rainbowed bygone days,
Hanging heavy from time and

the sense of loss.
I know the vines will softly crawl their way to me,

and cohere.
I don’t want the pearly drops the wells have to offer.
I am not thirsty.

And I don’t want delicious fruit either,
I am not hungry.
I am wary,

and you should be too,
Of walking down the memory lane
Because this is a journey

which only leaves you weary.