Pictures

Innocent act of rummaging through the books crate

Pictures stay. A silent record of past
They come out, suddenly
From the depths, from beneath them books

Pictures remain. A silent proof
Of moments past
When faces were different
Thoughts, the world, different

new morning, I face my shadow
I can't study with both eyes full of tears*

I tried.

I sit on my white cloud
Waaaay up above
Take a look at my world

Nostalgia keeps me alive
...most times...

* From: Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums