My memories are burnt into the streets of this city.
When I walk my usual roads, all those familiar places pass and come alive.
The past and the present seem to be equally present and absent.
Some things feel like yesterday though it has been a long time now.
Memories and impressions merge.
But I worry about the future, when I'm not here.
However, my feet know the way.
'What are you lost in thoughts' I tell myself.
Step by step I move through my memories and I have a little clue of home.
Memory is a room I have to pass.
Without memories, I don't know who I am.
I like your clarity of words and sentences (something that doesn't come so easy to me). This way I felt like following you through the streets of your city - although I didn't know that city.
AntwortenLöschenYou manage a good rhythm and structure, but yet the lines after "But I worry about the future, when I'm not here" seem a little seperated to me.
Maybe you could add each another connecting thought to lines 6-8. Lines 9 - 11 could be better connected by not switching between singular and plural in the word memories.