Debris

It’s strange how fast the familiar fades into the unknown, swept away by the tide of change. The everyday, comforting faces all blur and become indistinct, transforming into wraiths as it were. Come new vistas, new faces, the old never return. They get lost somewhere in the mists seen through the rain fogged glass. Maybe they’re not ours to claim anymore. Maybe they were never ours to possess. Perhaps they were just a small gift. A gift lost and found in the swirling eddies of the sands.

It’s strange how some goodbyes never make it past the lump in your throat.