Analysis of Memories

A LONELY WOODEN BED,
FORLORN PAIR OF GLASSES
UNTOUCHED CLOTHES,
AND LEATHER SHOES THE WIND WHISPERS THEIR SORROWS IN MY EAR AS I PASS THE EMPTIED ROOM.
LATE AT NIGHT,
AS MY HEAD MEETS THE PILLOW,
SOME MEMORIES PLAY AND I RECALL; THE KIDS WE WERE, THE LITTLE HURRICANES WE BROUGHT JUST TO SEE YOUR BROWS FURROW A LITTLE.
RANSACKING YOUR ROOM, STEALING CANDIES
LATER, RUNNING AROUND THE HOUSE WITH THE KEYS TO YOUR ROOM AND GIGGLING AS YOU FLARE YOUR NOSTRILS AND SIT IN DEFEAT WHERE DID ALL THOSE MOMENTS VANISH? I CAN'T TELL

BUT, OFTEN I WISH TIME WOULD REPEAT, KNOWING IT'S ONLY CAPABLE OF FLYING.