Black sings underneath the shadows of the great trees I pass

With a haunting voice but through wise words.

“You Are My Sunshine” cries out with a shrieking voice in the thunderstorm,

Always there but never seen.

I walk barefoot, the soil underneath my toes remembering my prints I make on the ground

So that they can say hello to me again later.

My dress brinks on the edge of being forgotten like an old Folk song from the radio.

It would have, had I not worn it today of all days.

The cold looks like coming face-to-face with a mother wolf,

Her silver fur and piercing white fangs, daring me to come closer to Death.

The color of her voice in my head was castleton green everywhere,

Making me forget the trees and grass around me.

Irises in my right hand whisper to me:

“Do you remember?”

Of course I remember. How could I forget?

Memories follow me through the walls in conversation, to the lead at the tip of my pencil as I write,

When the flame decides that it’s finished feasting upon the candle’s body,

And into the creaking floorboards of that house.

I will always remember for, even when I am in the present,

The past will forever follow close behind me.