M is for Magpie


A compulsion I cannot help but to collect, store, take out/look at, revisit these old dusty memories of yesteryears.

A lost friend,
an unforgotten train ride,
a picnic in the sand.

A kiss in the car,
A silver present at midnight,
A stolen star gaze in a hammock.

A smuggled lizard,
An almost-missed plane ride,
A sail to nowhere.

A missing diamond,
A 3hr long 45 min hike,
Lanterns in the garden.

Our memories are but an extension of our past selves, no?


Author: c

my world, out of your reach

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