You know the zeitgeist of a sweet, sweet memory?

I wish I could bottle it up like stardust and yellowed maps crinkled and wizened.

Like stardust, I can blow them in the same manner with dandelion puffs fluttering in the wind.

Like the creased maps will map out the way
like
constellations for my footsteps
to kiss
on
when
I am
hopeless lost.

And then, like the finest alchemy,
I can see us
again
behind my eyelids
when
I am
old and grey.

Like this one right here.