The Graveyard

As a self-described (mental) time-traveler, I do spend a lot of my time in the past. Lingering in moments long gone, savoring memories until they have no color and no flavor left. On particularly challenging days, when my memories have been used up and worn out like threads unraveling in an old blanket, I experience the feelings that are expressed in this poem. The past slips away and I can no longer hold onto moments that have long since been dead. Time itself seems like it drifts off into that endless sleep and I have nothing left but the current moment. I guess that is the punishment of a [mental] time traveler.

Do you ever have moments that you come back to time and time again?