A Woodland Voice

What might be my Rosebud? I have no token of my youth, no snow globe to remind me. I only have my notebooks. I only have my poetry. Will it be cast into the fire? What holds the human soul if not our dreams and hopes, if not our victories and losses? And what contains my spirit? There is a box of photographs, some trinkets here and there. In the end, not much is left, a frozen cinematic moment, a longing for the past let go. All the world will fall away as I release it from my hand, the voice I heard in the woods. ~~~~~ Inspired by Citizen Kane by Orson Welles.