Traces of Yesterday

Under the seat, an old paper bag,

crumpled and worn, my heart gives a wag.

A grease stain, a shadow of lunch once shared,

whispers of moments when no one was scared.

Forgotten conversations, laughter and haste,

caught in the remnants, the memories placed.

A ghost of a meal, a history’s mark,

as time slips away, like light in the dark.