Faded Memories

The dress lay folded, yellowed in time,

dust motes dance like ghosts of a song.

Once white and alive, now stained by a rhyme,

a fabric of dreams where I used to belong.

Lace soft as whispers, now frayed at the seam,

brings back a flash of an innocent grace.

In faded reflections, I stumble through dream,

remembering me, but a stranger I face.

Caught in the threads, memories tie tight,

a scrapbook of summers, the laughter we shared.

Yet, this dress, now forgotten, speaks to my plight,

of youth that slipped by, and the moments impaired.