Forgotten Leftovers

Searching for a pen, I unearth the past,

crumpled receipts, gum wrappers like confessions,

the glove compartment, a tight little space,

each item a story I didn’t want to face.

Dust settles thick on an old map,

yellowed corners tell me how far I’ve strayed,

a whisper of journeys that never began,

each forgotten moment, a fading cascade.