By an anonymous author.

I remember those walks with my father
In those twisted green parks
where the paths never ended
and the sun never used to stop
in those memories
I feel like I am flying
And I am holding a green ice lolly
Which shone of childhood
And all that went with it
Now I am grasping that same green lolly
and I am forced to remember a time where
the sun had set and mum called us in for dinner
a time where my mouth would be cold and stuck with its sweetness
in a childish immaturity
where nothing else mattered
But now it is different
Now I hold it in my adult fingers
And under the light of a desk-lamp it melts
In a room that is blurred with indulgence and exposure
and hinting smiles
Now the juice sticks and smells on my fingers
like the nostalgia of the sunshine that never ended
but it is bittersweet
In the morning
I see the used stick which lays discarded on the floor
amongst torn off clothes
and an unknown squared wrapper
that shines in the morning sun
radiating painfully through the window
I do not know who I am
anymore
But there is a girl in the corner of the room
Smiling at me in the sunset