Eight Years

Eight years have flown by
The whispered memory of you
Still a bittersweet presence at my side

I visited your old house the other day
Eight years of wind and rain
Still haven't washed that familiar smell away

The smell of paint, thinner, and love
Remaining along with a treble clef wind chime
And the tree that grew through your back porch...

... but time has not left this place untouched

The woods that once engulfed this place
Like a blanket shielding it from the world
Gone... I don't recognize this barren face

Suddenly I'm ashamed of letting myself forget
Each faded memory now a knife in my heart
For allowing this particular painting to become an abstract

I can't remember your favorite flower
Or what it was exactly that you loved to collect
I'm forgetting the details with every new spring shower

Eight years and it seems a certain dream died
That I buried it in the grave with you
My art, my music, my singing voice... six feet under they lie

Now, like zombies, they come back to my brain
And I'm struggling to revive them
Along with your memory again

Eight years and this place has changed
Eight years and I'm no longer a mere child
Eight years have never felt so strange