I’ve crept up on the past,
like falling back from the future.
Memories last,
though time is unclear.
The future’s still not here.
Who knows when it will come?

Time stands still,
yet I see years at a time.
At least while I’m here.

The past lives,
and I won’t ruin it by
going the wrong way forward,
to undo what was done before me,
so I could be here.

I’m here now, but I can’t stay,
I won’t stay and watch this place turn to dust.
I’d rather keep it in a picture,
while time moves on.


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