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I've slept on bamboo, on hardwood, on tiles, on a concrete floor. I've slept on the sand on the open shore I've watched waves touch my feet snatching my slippers towards sea. I've watched giant crabs come dawn crawl from my uncovered dirt ground I've danced and sang under the warm summer rain; the little raindrops tapping their rhythm on my skin. I've been kept awake by mistakes only to find myself awake once again, forgetting all the thoughts that had kept me at bay. Time was slow in my younger years, but it kept pace and caught up, and now I can barely see its back swiftly past me as I catch my breath. It's memories like this, I am sure, that will keep me haunting until the memories slowly fade away.
Authors note:
Memories are interesting aren't they? They bring out a haunting feeling of wanting, of longing, of reliving the happiness, of wanting to forget the pain.
And sometimes they come to me in a rhythm that makes me ask, why that way? I'll never know, but I like writing them out of my head.
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