Letter to self ...

For the precious in life lies under the covers of memory

I chase the baubles, for the greatest memories aren’t ones on the wall

Fake smiles adorn the mantle pieces

I know, I question but I carry on

For I value not the valuables But the hollow joy, the withering leaf

Fool in a fool’s paradise chasing another oasis

And letting the sweetest, purest burry under the sandstorm