I found my marble. It was hiding behind old books A place I never thought to look Up high on the shelf my little marble, a piece of myself a clear marble with a black core but if you squint your eyes it would appeared to be pure black I remember rolling it forward and back up and down my wooden floor until it got stuck between my door then a rescue mission would commence to save my marble I needed great confidence not to get injured in the process to my five year old self this is what being bold was like so this cycle repeated itself recycling the same pattern roll, stuck, save, repeat but then one day I lost my marble and then I forgot I lost it I forgot that small part of my childhood playing marbles on the wood I thought it was gone for good until I found my marble I realised I didn't forget it at all it was just stored away up on a tall shelf and when I was reunited the memories began to reload in my brain restoring a place in time where losing a marble was the biggest crime I time with no bore Playing with a clear marble with a black core