Fading

Fading.

It is like a fog in my mind,
some force that stops me thinking.
I sit and try to remember
good times I have had.
Old photographs show evidence
that I smiled, even laughed.
I try to recall these times
but the fog deepens.

My childhood is a ghost
half seen, hiding in shadow.
What I remember are not my memories
but stories told through the years.
Friends speak of youth with a twinkle in the eye.
They speak of games, friends, places visited.
I listen with envy.

Older, I feel out of place,
surreal.
I cannot remember the last
clear day.
Photographs show evidence,
but photos show only surface,
and fade with time.
Like a Polaroid left in the sun too long
I am losing my color and fading.
I wonder if I was ever really here.

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2 thoughts on “Fading

  1. people always say “a picture worth a thousand words”, but after reading those lines:
    “Photographs show evidence,
    but photos show only surface,” woooow very nice and meaningful dude

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