Tacked on a corkboard the tales that once soared

Tacked on a corkboard, the tales that once soared,

postcards of places where laughter ran wild,

ticket stubs whispering stories ignored,

now gathering dust like the dreams of a child.

I pull down a note, frayed edges in hand,

it carries the weight of a summer so bright,

with every pin pulled, I feel time’s cruel hand,

what was once vibrant now fades out of sight.

A patchwork of moments, of laughter and tears,

each piece a reminder of who I used to be,

it tells of adventures, the hopes and the fears,

a mosaic of memories, longing to be free.

Yet as I sort through the relics of me,

the weight of each loss is a shadow I bear,

these fragments of joy, now threads of debris,

leaving me longing for what isn’t quite there.