Straw days.
Hungry eyes.
Spider web fears, a life study in shadow.

Waiting – waiting, to revisit remembered glories not so glorious as memory would have had them be.

The glamour granted by time to fill the gaps of gray between, the grayer the journey, the brighter the past, the greater the distant deception.

Oh merciful time that misplaces so nicely what pains, that colors in pastel what once disappointed, that softens and rounds the jagged prisoners of wasted chances, what would you grant?

To let what lay behind gather significance in retrospect, like aging wine or gathering dust on sculptured art, as memories seeded for the future as one walks from day to day to day.

“I’ll do what I’d like to remember,” they say to themselves, if they collect there life for later as they go.

Let it be – Let it be.