When memories are not as you remember them and it's September again,
when you're wondering where it all went when you're remembering the times as you remember them
and it's September again, the wheel goes around and the hampster stands still
memories that fall from the memory mill until one day and one day when you fade away and the picture looks bare as if you're no longer there but you know that you're only a slide to the right side, a window that opens in the corner of your eye or a catch in your breath, unlocked.

Autumn on tiptoes
cold hands
runny nose

I've been here before.