Old friends

It’s still a familiar sound
after all this time
the tiptoe of melancholy
behind the hum of everyday life-
a long forgotten song
on a stranger’s ringtone –
background score to my tears.

Discarded dreams
crunching beneath my feet
like fallen yellow leaves:
old,
and yet, with enough life for one satisfactory stomp.
My first sprouts of hope
that made way for our big, grownup shoots.

Old friends with whispery hellos and my smiles,
as I duck behind age and maturity, embarrassed
how they still stick around.
Don't they get the point?
I know better -
silly dreams now discarded for big, grownup shoots.