Mnemophobia - the fear of memories

I yearn for past times, for days not quite long gone.

I remember golden leaves that crunch underfoot, the sky remained piercing blue, unremarkable benches under undistinguished trees.

I remember steaming coffee cups and the laughter of friends that have since forgotten their loyalty. I remember the stolen kisses from boys who have disappeared into the arms of another.  

Oh, for a time when tomorrow promised to be just as good as yesterday and there's always more time. More time to change your mind, to make up your mind, to learn something you never knew about who you thought you were. 

I've run out of tomorrows, out of time. Somewhere in the morning mist and the smell of freshly cut grass, tomorrow became today, I grew up, those days are gone.