"Not a Sound from the Pavement ... I Remember the Time I knew What Happiness Was"

Memories get buried
Sometimes with us... sometimes before we die. 
Loss of moments,
Loss of lifetimes,
Love, joy, and sadness;
Faces, names, words, and music.
Losing the Self into a void,
Losing loved ones into a chasm;
Darkness and greys dulling colours and light.
Childhood superseding the Adult,
Today shrouded by long ago;
Stolen moments, stolen hours, stolen years.
Fearing the loss of memory, of Identity; more than life itself.
Age is a thief...
Personality, strength, concentration, height, vision, hearing, appetite, taste, and sleep...
but worse is loss that is not due to age;
The premature loss of essence, individuality, ego, soul
The deprivation and decay of Memory.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak   
© 27 August 2014