For the far reaches of long ago
Were gilded memories
Rampant, spared and unscathed

I approached them with caution
Beneath the still veil of nightfall
Shunning,
The ominous blare of brooding consciousness

I am
Bereft of a whimper
Stripped of the ever slight stir of inner turmoil

Upon the threshold of rest
I wander the terrain once I knew well
Upon each precious blade of grass
And all comforting wisps of long ago

My effortless retreat
Binds me to wonder
To marvel at my former self
Unshackled and certain
When the pages were always full and content
Beckoning with potential
And brimming with inquiry

Those days
Have all been spent
Worn to their core
And chiming “Well done”

To morn is but a wasted effort
As the loving past
Shall forever prosper within my thoughts