I spend my days waiting for a call to the beings of the night
Beings that are thought to be of only tale
Beings of dream
Beings of imagination

As I wander the path ahead
Listening to the whispers of shadows around
On occasion my eyes tend to wander around
Like lost travelers finding the trail back home
Only to see that the comforts of home have followed

A parent of parent
A old watcher
Old friends
Old lovers
and even
A schoolyard crush or two

Bringing the memories shared along
Reminding me
Of the struggle, the tears, the fires that I fought
The laughter, the dance, and play I cherished
The kisses blinding me to a dead end

Everywhere I go I see a glimpse of those I left behind
Is this a sign?
All of these faces aged a little more then memories sake
In a new light as I realize that their reasons are to admire
Admire the path I taken, as it was a path they observed
Is this a sign?
Undoubtly I feel eased at what I see
As all I can remember was the ease of heart when I would see
They knew it too
Is this a sign?

If so, where is it pointing?