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Polaroid of the Past

I sit by the riverside, wondering

how a thousand things slip off my mind,

yet a special place those moments find.

The evening walks by the lake,

the laughing till our stomachs ached.

Each current opens up an old scar,

reminding me of people who were once so close, now so far.

Each tide nudges me to recall the good old days,

when I was carefree, life a gorgeous lavender haze.


This game of nostalgia is so gruesome;

memories reside in mind as silt at the river bottom.

Oh, how I wish I could go back in time,

not to change anything but live a few days twice.

But life does not stop, as does the river flow steadfast;

perhaps all I can do is stare blankly

and reminisce the polaroids of the past.


Polaroid of the Past | Poem

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