Into the Day

These were the days that fell into our hands. We took them, as though they were something precious, and laid them out here in our hall of memories, saving them for times when the days no longer fell into our hands. Saving them for times when we no longer saw the dawn rise over us as though the day was there, ready to take.

We kept those times precious: like jewelled memories, as if they were some key we could use to open better times when those doors were locked against us. Those times the world turned us away from itself. Times when we could no longer face the slow falling of the days past our closed windows while we stared, waiting to find a way to unlock the door that kept us from stepping out into the day.

There were times when we walked together. Hand in hand, walking towards the possibilities those days held out to us in open palms. Those times when we thought there would always be more days wanting for us to step into them. Days that would take us forward into a future that would stretch as far as seeing goes.

We did not expect the world to turn away from us, to lock the door on the future and keep its days to itself. Now, we sit and wait for time to bring us a few meagre days that no longer shine and sparkle with promise. Instead, we turn away from our window, and the locked door. We walk these corridors back to that hall of bright memories, where the bright days wait for us to step back into them and remember.