Old New

The dreams that I no longer remember when I awake. The names that slip from memory. The faces that are a blur.

Old faces that swim in my subconscious state, evoking memories of time past, hinting and tugging at my heart strings.

Old names that spring forth, limber as if just yesterday I echoed them, instead of almost decades ago.

Old dreams, childhood déjà vu, sweet memories shining as clearly as if dreaming of yesterday, not yesteryear.

The smell of mango blossoms, the spin of a radio playing in the distance, the heady scent of dirt.