Someone I Lost
I touch these awkward things. I bought them when I was young But I don't remember them As if it were of another life of mine I want to touch them, I want to remember them I want a distant memory of myself So little, buying them. And the joy on my face, So evident, even for little things Because life was simple And attachments not so strong I want to go as I came Free and oblivious to the world, And as I fail to re-cultivate All the 'values' I had as a child I look at these things As some sort of treasures From someone I lost And want to be again.