I remember where everything is without a single photo.
The wall of masks behind that horrid couch
All the creaky wooden floorboards shifting underfoot
The feel of the muggy air, wind the only air conditioning

The smell of rich dirt after hard rain, like nature and euphoria
Vibrant green leaves the only color against the gray sky
Deep brown bark, dead leaves and damp moss so soft and squishy on toes
Tall trees towering, stretching and straining long limbs to scrape the sky.

I see the streets I walked, lined with buildings small and quaint
Cracked sidewalks of crooked concrete with a sandwich in hand
Trekking to the abandoned gazebo behind that magnificent church
A moment alone with nothing but the song of squealing tires from the road

Quiet snowfall bringing white crystals to cover barren branches
Thick and wet like a blanket of childhood bliss
Sitting in the purest patch, coolness seeping through skin
Wishing to stay and watch the birds at the feeder a little longer.

Every hall, every wall, every stair and sight
Memories etched beneath the surface unseen
A life, an eternity, a forgotten beginning
Like a living memory, a thinking journal

I remember where everything was without a single photo
Every hall, every wall, every stair and sight
The smell of the grill, the sound of the road by my window...
If I ever go back, it can never be the place I knew again.

I think of that every day.
So I wait,
And I wonder.
Even though all I can do is remember.