We borrow these places to
plant the seeds of our memories.
Left with a promise,
you will return.
They’ll hit you suddenly;
staring at the ground where
your childhood home stood,
or on the sidewalk that once
held a forest with trees
dancing in every direction.
Nothing stays the same.
We only get it for a little while
to sow ourselves into the layers
of history, and to weave
pieces of the stories we’ll
one day tell our children
about those times we had
way back in the day
when there were forests
and wild animals
and assurances
that it would be okay.