I looked at your number,
Long gone was the name it belonged with,
However like a record, I still have the number repeating in my head.
Maybe the one call which is pending, I need to do it soon.
Maybe the cracked museum will somehow find its way through.
The memories of ours, lies lost into the ocean.
Some chest come to the shore, one after another.
And when life seems to be healing, the chests brings back the burdens.
Lost the meaning in the pages, which had scribbled stories written from years.
Hoping one day they will speak, like a magical being. A fantasy story, maybe I will have it too. Expecting unexpected, I knew it was dead end.
But I choose wild imagination over reality of world.