The wall of pins a crowded mind

The wall of pins, a crowded mind.

A yellowed stub, a bus I left behind,

held fast by metal, bent and strange.

Beside it, lists, a dizzying range

of errands, names, a half-drawn map

of places I won't close the gap.

A photograph of someone’s smile,

fading now, gone all the while.

Each item stuck, a sharp decree,

"Remember this," it says to me.

But what it means, the weight they hold,

gets lost somewhere, left untold.

Just pins and paper, thin and slight,

obscuring what was once so bright.