The towns were paper,
but the memories were not.
Each town told a story,
although some were distraught.
The paper slowly fell apart,
though the memories stayed put.
Every night I tried to forget it,
but it never quite shook.
A slip of paper, that's all it took.
To give life another outlook.
And every night,
I would write,
a bittersweet lullaby.
Hoping that in the morning
when I would look,
There would be no town of paper
that I had took.
- C. B.