When chasing a memory, I concede!
A wanting for everything.
Everything it should have been.
If I amble after a flashback…too far
It will surely run me back.
A tackle-box of strangeness from the past.
wheels in motion
fresh cut grass
the fur lined evergreens reeking of purity.
Inflamed by all that is good to remain.
I chase the postcard distance for a sense of glory.
Dignity, however, has only one expression among the tall peaks.
Nothing to glamorize.
No memory is free.