The trinkets tied to memories
collections without pertinence
haunt my dreams in misery
insisting paths I dare not take

leading to the traps of lore
with a focus on lost debris
with only value to the one
desiring more than present draws

these echoes of lost history
consume attention in the sleep
this is an echo of waking hours
exclaiming loudly in danger’s place

while the present asks to be
the past consumes all relevance
as the warnings are broadcast
from the realms of troubled sleep.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190707.