The Return


The weathered building still stood,
its once bright
lemon-yellow facade
now only a faded patchwork
of condemned signs
and boarded windows.

It was the first time
I had ventured back
since losing him.
Steeling my heart
with a deep breath,
I opened the door
and stepped inside.

The rickity stairs were higher
than I remembered,
and now, years later,
the trip up
was almost as difficult
as the trip back
in time.

In ruins thick with dust,
thicker still with memories,
past and present collide.
Slowly pain and sorrow
fade in tears of liberation
to cleanse and dry
on ancient floorboards.

It was right to return.
Some days are diamonds,
some days are dust,
and some days ...
well, some days
can never be anything
but both.