Waiting in the afterburn of a photo,
The summer sun seared into my eyes,
Feeling the blurry space of filled time.

Long-forgotten jokes tight in my chest,
A constant smile developing worry lines—
I watched the goldenhour subside.

Where would the memories go,
If I did not grab hold of them?

A soft pink veil filtered the internal upset,
A clock ratcheting in my headspace--
Limbs lengthened, faces matured,
And I was left wondering at what point
I started living in fear
Of watching the time go, adrift without
The guide of the lighthouse of childhood.