I remember a time when I was young, and I could still dream in color...
A time when the days weren't so black and white; I could still see the beauty in the world before me.
I remember how vivid it all used to be; before I stopped listening, anyway.
Before I closed my eyes to the world,
Or before my eyes were closed for me...
The universe was my palate:
a brilliant spectrum of colors, with endless possibilities, and many different worlds to explore;
And I was the brush, painting my dreams on a pedestal before me, naive to the constraints of society, to my own physical limitations...
and to lamentation;
But that was long ago.
Alas, I am older now, and those dreams have come and gone. Now, they reside only in my most distant memories, fragmented by years of neglect and abandonment - but not entirely forgotten; like the old trunk in the corner of the attic that hasn't been touched in years, covered with dust and cobwebs, and filled with of old memories.
...even the memories have started to fade.
Occasionally, I like to take out the old 'trunk' and wipe the dust away, but I dare not look at it too long, lest I be tempted to open it again.
I'm much too old now, and I haven't the time for such silliness. Those days have come and gone now...as have I.