I was taking down some memories. They were old like dank decay.

A haunting hanging nostalgic romp, that had more than had her say.

There was no peace or harmony. Just a path without a sign.

We got to travel that way once. You went your way, I went mine.

There was this thing for beauty. That used to be the rule.

Not a curse I’d wish on anyone, but I used to be that fool.

There’s a virtue called forgiveness. I’ve been drinking from that glass.

There’s a dot on that horizon. Give it time. This too shall pass.