These familiar landscapes
Worked and reworked in my mind
These many years. So familiar
That the truth of them has long since disappeared
Melting gently into the way it was
Fading into their own order.
I was young once, I know
My life populated by faces and voices
Who did not then and still
Will not reveal the truth of things to me
Though I wait for their secrets
To be spoken perhaps now
In my own voice.