Which Side is Real?

You think it will still be there when you turn back, but it's not. A metaphor.

One step
As laughing
I push through prickly branches,
Shield my eyes from sharp points,
Then blink-
It’s gone.

I turn-
Just hard grain behind me;
Old wood opening
To mothballed memories
And a barrier against my hand.
I cannot go back.

I didn’t see it coming,
So long ago it fell away-
I’d forgotten
I lived another life
Before.

I can still almost smell the piney slopes,
Feel warmth of sun on shoulders
As beside you,
Clothed in brocade,
Scepter in hand,
I was queen.

An entire life fades in a moment
like fantasy-
Just a pretty story
That is only real to me.
I take up my old life again
Beside people without a clue
to who I was,
Am.