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By: Dillion975~

I get a feeling, so strong, it takes me back.

To kitchens, and schools, and houses that no longer stand.

My memories are all of times; places that are gone,

All my people who will no longer sing. 

I look at the wrinkles, each one a path,

Running through a map of instance,

An atlas I (and we all) have become,

With stories of a road, love lost, and a home,

Forgotten.

 Leave me not this night outside of your thoughts,

And I promise you a lead role in my prayers,

My travels may bring me back,

But if they wont,

You my friend will be my favorite ghost.

Remember me well,

And pass my spirit along,

 In the stories that you tell.