I look into the fire and
I think of all the people that have come into and passed out of my life. Names
and faces or faces no longer with names, just vague recollections. Sometimes as
I think of them, I wonder if they have ever thought about me or if I have just
disappeared into the pages of time; pages that are never read or can be read
anymore. Certain experiences that I recall that may mean nothing to the other
person who was involved. Does she remember me? Does she ever think fondly of
that time? Sometimes, ships just pass in the night.
