#1065-Forgotten

Crowded.

Like thoughts,

In my head.

Windows open.

A slight breeze.

Clouds drifting.

Daylight fading.

The keyboard gives voice,

To silent thoughts.

Neil young sings,

Heart of gold,

To a summer storm.

One of those days.

When things feel clear.

Maybe raindrops,

Are washing away,

Layers of a past,

I can’t remember.