The Things I Remember

Those little letters you used to post, sent to my address. While I slept, my dreams were kept in messages that you sent. The times we laughed, the times we played, the places we did browse. Times we spent are better kept in memories, not in frowns. The Internet where we met, the ghost in our machines. We wake each day and have to say the nightmares that we dreamed. We share our day with things to say, the pleasance and the bad, but we both hoped the time we shared would one day come alive. How times can change and worlds divide, you lost your loving way. What was the cost for what was lost in memories and in play? A lesson learnt, I doubt it — for you, it had to go. For it was you who broke my heart, dug deep into my soul. I realise this game somehow, and what it's meant to mean. The Internet's for sharing, to keep alive your dream. The pictures we were building — a life, a love, a home — were only meant for dreamers, and never laid in stone. Will I always remember your dream, your life, your throne? The way you conquer and divide to make it on your own. Fiction and reality, just walking into walls — the lake, the house, the weather, main words scrolled upon the wall. Thousand miles from home I played — do you remember how it was? Little ones I shepherd while you worked on and on. Yes, memories stolen, future denied — don't touch the shades, don't take them from my eyes. Yes, memories — times just trapped in space. No age, no growing — I'll remember those days. But I'll often wonder just how it all ends — not only for you, but both my little friends. Andy.B 28.01.004