A Ghost of a Boy

The evening light, a weary golden hue,
Pours through the window and the floor anew.
I look into the mirror's vacant gaze,
I see a ghost from my forgotten days.
A ghost of a boy, watching Sonpari's gleam,
His grandfather playing clever chess schemes.
His thrill of winning kites, a sweet, simple gain,
His Walkman cassette against the rainy pane.

My smile begins, a slow and quiet grace,
A warmth that fills this hollow, empty space.
Then suddenly, a cold breeze on my face,
That snaps me from that forgotten place.
My memories break, my eyes start to blink,
The smile on my lips begins to shrink.
My eyes feel blurred with a sudden tear,
Standing on this fragile brink of fear.

The memories, a beautiful, gentle bevy,
Those easy days now feel so heavy.
The love and the light, now a distant thing,
Those moments that the present can't bring.
Darkness creeps in, a slow, deep breath,
And turns the golden evening into night's rest.
I walk to my bed, a second, gentle sleep,
Trying to shed the weight of this day, so deep.

I hug the pillow, a cold and empty space,
A voice from the past, a forgotten, fading trace.
Then press a button, to hear a favorite tune,
I try to find comfort in this quiet, lonely room.
But the notes feel heavy, and full of dread,
Each one a memory, a comfort I have shed.
I turn it off, and lay my weary head,
And try to sleep with a reality instead.