A Road Travelled Only Once

On sleepless nights
I feed my insomnia
with tales of my past.

I retell the stories
I've told many times before
and dwell in the glow
of my memories of glory.

Bitter moments
of hope, loss
and sheer stubborness
become flesh
once again.

Some call it
the foolishness
of the old and wrinkled,
such as myself,
but I can't seem to agree
- I was a fool but once.

That one time
is locked away,
caged deep beneath the bottom layers
of subconsciousness,
bound and shackled
to a fate of infinite oblivion.