The Yesterday Thief

The days wear on like the tattered coat of a homeless man
The passing of time does little to insulate one from the cold
Torn pockets which kept saved memories produce empty hands
Or only bits of lint clinging to the walls of a worn out soul

We reach; digging deeper in the consternation of our grief
Searching for some stored equity in the balance of truth
We come to the realization that time is a pick-pocket thief
And gone forever are the secret, sacred treasures of our youth

The brown skinned boy that ran playing in fields with his friendly dog;
The fair-haired girl whose blue eyes sparkled with mischievous twinkle
Far away and surreal now; a land hidden by distant fog
Frost has gathered to the hair and the sun is stored in wrinkles

Do you remember his name? I can’t, for the life of me, recall.
She had a pretty party dress; a dolly with go to sleep eyes.
Perhaps I only dreamt it and it wasn’t real after all
Yesterday; suddenly gone, without the chance to say goodbye