Someone I Lost

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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.

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