Struggling to Articulate

Pathways in memory
Recorded in the mind, but experienced in the physical world,
Walking among the ghosts of our past selves
On the paths we've taken, consciously or not,
Thoughtful or ignorant.
Sometimes I'll stumble upon my own pathway of thought,
And sometimes I watch the people in my past dart and weave in the yard of my present,
The two never quite mingling,
Like a projection upon a white sheet in the wind.
I remember a night in the daytime,
Many children of varied ages where now there is only one small girl,
Wild-haired in the sandbox.

Half of conversation is remembering,
Half of the world forgetting.