I have a memory of me. The me I used to want to be. The carefree, dancing spirit. Before life made me, the child, responsible. Responsible for the care of adults. Adult worries and issues heaped high. All done with smiles, in hopes of love, acceptance. Never given, just labeled a daydreamer. But, deep in the night, all others asleep, slipping out the window, to dance in the meadows. Frolic in the groves, splash in the creek. Stars and auroras lighting the way. All grown, waiting for death, I carry a nugget of a memory. A memory of the me I used to want to be.
"in this world of changes, please remember me" The Soldier, Chris de Burgh