And things may never be the same,
simple fragments of a fragile age,
when wooden swords and makeshift boats came easy,
when fights were play pretend,
when you could sit all day eating sea salt ice-cream.
The things we took advantage of,
one minute you are a part of me,
the next you're not,
the perfect halo of misconception,
and where we walk the road is uneven,
the sun is low, the night's darkness reigns high,
These shattered hopes,
scattered memories,
dreams,
there is an end to every story,
but where is ours?
(via 
