What’s in a name?

What’s in a name?

The one they tucked away quietly,

With the lightness of a leaf

On a callous autumn breeze.

–

Oh, just the little grains of life

That once rattled and pierced the air

With impossible vitality

Before settling with the rest.

–

All tied up

In those fragile words

Is just the fragile vision

Of countless days spent.

–

Before— from time to time—

When rolling past the gates,

I’d peer over the chasm

Towards unfettered youth.

–

Here’s comes the nostalgist;

Prodding the memory,

Checking the pulse

Before we both flatline.

–

As the casing cracks,

Wear curator’s gloves

And extract the severed legacy

To place behind tempered glass.

–

I clutch these artefacts

That crumble slowly

Under the weight of years

And years to come.

–

But the new words

On those monuments

Reduces, by one,

My enchanted hoard.