Passage to the Past

Now, through the looking-back-glass,
drifting off to a world of fantasy.
A long lost memory.
With black boxwood borders embedded with stories.

Like a golden key to a chamber,
like a door to an infinite corridor,
like the very last piece of a different puzzle.
A faulty frame burdened by the weight of history.

The very last time… I ever saw them.
The very last time… I ever existed in a passage of light.
The very last time… I wondered if life can turn like a train track,
Too late now… the wheels hovering over the steel rail, bent across the trail.

A plane flying, like an eagle soaring through the sky,
Wild and free as the world in mind.
Now it seems all that freedom
was just a fantasy.

Trapped within the old, wrecked walls,
and stuck with bruised and broken bones.
In the dark halls, you roam alone, only to remember that the past was best
in a frozen picture you behold.