Memory Lane
can be lethal, you know;
it fills the cracks between your skin and
occupies the spaces between your fingers.

Trudging along its narrow path
can cause you to trip on everything behind you
without even trying to,
allowing the colours of every sky
to fill the depths of your beating heart
only to freeze it right in place.

A plague of some sort
bringing pangs and plunges of unmistakeable euphoria
and nostalgia
and realization of the drastic ephemeral nature
of anything and everything—amazement and wonder
lead by sorrow and loss.

Because Memory Lane is a traveller,
a nomad in this mind of yours,
unable to settle on specifics so it sets its net
on everything around it, bringing back sentiments of
every little thing
you thought you had forgotten.

It sets up camp in every crevice of your spine,
leading the way
but always waiting for
no one.

gd