I found my marble.
It was hiding behind old books
A place I never thought to look
Up high on the shelf
my little marble, a piece of myself
a clear marble with a black core
but if you squint your eyes
it would appeared to be pure black
I remember rolling it forward and back
up and down my wooden floor
until it got stuck between my door
then a rescue mission would commence
to save my marble I needed great confidence
not to get injured in the process
to my five year old self
this is what being bold was like
so this cycle repeated itself
recycling the same pattern
roll, stuck, save, repeat
but then one day I lost my marble
and then I forgot I lost it
I forgot that small part of my childhood
playing marbles on the wood
I thought it was gone for good
until I found my marble
I realised I didn't forget it at all
it was just stored away
up on a tall shelf
and when I was reunited
the memories began to reload in my brain
restoring a place in time
where losing a marble
was the biggest crime
I time with no bore
Playing with a clear marble
with a black core