You know who he was. A wizened old man whispers the memory of his life. Memory lingers like the life given to a child’s toy lingers long after he left it for other loves. It is, as well, the familiar scent of a forgotten room, the ssshing sound of wind slipping among white pines.
You know who you were. Today’s memory was yesterday’s reality. Today’s reality is yesterday’s memory. That is, the life in a little child’s eyes that brings tears to yours. You are, as well, lingering whispers of memory, lonely, lolling words.