Our duffle bags are filled with stained clothing. stained memories. The sun that burnt our pale skin so many times is now setting with a soft sympathy. The Ending Begun, no mistakes existed in the circle game. liquid flashbacks flew from our eyes and eased from our noses. Summer had evaporated any grudges we held. our dragon, Puff, blew magic in our hearts. in our bags our duffles weighed more than us and I knew why. they held everything we had: early morning hot chocolates air we flew through snow ***** that hit our frozen bodies lips of those we kissed hands of those we held hair of those we braided Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh the mountains we Climbed the buckets of tears in the ends 7 Groups of Shoes Thrown. my jet plane was leaving I knew what I was leaving behind and what was now mine. we weren't going home, not really.