They come, unbidden, in the night and like a magical journey take me back to times long past, where I can look with backward glance, and wish those times return once more, to echo in this brain of mine, this harried vault of Father Time. In wonderment, I start each trek into the depths of times forgotten, woven as a piece of cloth, the patchwork of times well, or mis-spent; yet looking back, one sees no other way to live the life of yesterday. And so, unbidden, still they come, and I, in pleasant warm cocoon of peaceful sleep, do wallow in them, once again, delicious bites of long passed time. The voices blur, the faces fade, and yet these memories were made with so much love, and will remain within my heart, forever. And I will relish each return, to that far-off place wherein they hide, to delve once more into history, into the patchwork of my life.
