It is just a memory,
like a small swell
of water from a spring,

Or the green
water pump
pumping
water
into
my light green
plant watering
plastic thing
whose name
I can’t recall.

Or the wooden bench
also painted green,
chips slowly
falling
down onto
the green grass
below.

Or the soft brown
mound of ground
I found
as I ran my
bare feet
swiftly
across the wet dirt
letting little blades
of moist grass
tickle my soles.

Or the brown
trees that let me
lumber up
clumsily
like a loopy ninja.

Like the sea shore
the water recedes before
the swell of memories
overwhelm me.