Beyond the front row
is a place I don’t go,
where shadows may stay,
whenever I play.
All the voices in my head
echo something that you said,
as you lay across my bed
in the year twenty ten.
All the shadows in my eyes
tell a story with no lies,
I can feel the butterflies
rise up again.
“I wonder what my teenage self
would think of me now.
Would think of me in love,
think of me and how…”
All the memories on my mind
some well-meaning, some unkind,
take me back as I rewind
to what happened then.
Oh, the voices in my head.
In my head.
Copyright Keith Ames
