Washed out colors of memories, of our past, is not necessarily a bad thing.
When the days were long and the nights were fun, I can remember the days when we were young.
How I wish we could go back again.
Those Polaroid photos hold so much more then those pictures show. If only we could go back there, where the memory continues on.
To hear you laugh, to see your smile, to feel your warm embrace. Would mean so much to me, to watch you bake, again. I can almost hear you in my dreams, the sound of your voice is so haunting.
The urge to call you from down the hall, Grandma are you still here? Thought of love, kisses and hugs, I know I will see you again some day.
I am sorry I wasn’t there, when the worst had reared its ugly head. I am sorry I didn’t see that scared little boy in me.
He would linger on,
Through the months,
Through the tears,
In my heart and through the years.
The shame was too deep to come around. The feeling I had let you down. Toss and turn in my sleep, I count the hours that could be. I could see your smile as we played. God, I wish could just go back to those days.
There you are and here I am, there you stand, with an out-stretched hand. I hear you say it will be okay.
Stay with me forever,
In my mind,
In my soul,
In my heart,
In those Polaroid photos.
The Scruffy Guy