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Things Forgotten

The trees were tall along the highway, towering giants watching over every traveler. Music loud playing in the car, so many more miles to go before we’re home again.

When I was young I would watch the trees on the sides of the road. I would dream of these roads. I would dream of the telephone poles.

Trapped in memory are the things forgotten.

I sat alone in a crowded room. I step behind the mic. The jokes told in the moment now forgotten.

Dreams and life merge as I look back upon my memory. I’m alone with nothing but memories. I no longer know the names of the many people I have met.

Each moment of memory a fragment of my life. I search through my memories. It makes me miss what my life once was.

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