Why is it a memory I can’t forget; why do I follow it?

The blinding sun and my willingness to stare into it.
Before only trusting in finding happiness in the light of faraway stars.

The day like today, was a day like then…
When as a ghostly clock, I followed and hoped to predict your arrival and disappearances.

The black violets, the boy against the glass.
The sun above and the maze of ugly hallways.

Today, a memory again.
And again.