What once was there

Is now gone

Buildings, forest, towns, and homes

Now just rubble and dust

Dirt beneath my feet

What is now left is in my mind

And my mind me tells stories

Of what once was

Are the stories true

I think

Is the story true

I think

Are my feelings true

I think

Will you be remembered by what once was seen

Now that everything is gone

 Tears rolling downwards

Dripping and splashing to the base board 

Of my rusted 76’ van

Will this van be what will be remembered

I think

Or 

Maybe it was a bike

Or 

Maybe it was us walking across a park

On a sunny day with nats swarming our hair

Where an old shriveled man tossing away all 

That he has left 

To oversized inflated pigeons

Hacking and coughing

He gives us deaths stare and with his last breath “How do you do?” 

As we quickly pass by to go to the murky river

We laugh and joke about all the things we see in The river 

Fish sitting in one spot

Laughing about the good days

Rusted 76’ van sitting at the bottom

Inflated pigeons floating down the river 

And a bike floating in the air towards the clouds

Confused and baffled

I look to you for clarification

Just to see the old shriveled man

“How do you do?”

Is this story true

I think

Or

Maybe it was a movie