Remember...
In war, if you don't set some place aside to remind you of the wildflower meadows and the silently whispering pines, then you may never find your way back to those alleyways of memory. Long forgotten, cobwebs and detritus camoflage their entryways from wandering eyes. The scents of the plains and forest, once fresh on the brisk afternoon breeze, now hang languidly like smoke in the still of the night. Crisp yellow buttercup blossoms, erewhile rejuvenated on the laughter and joy of passersby now sadly reminisce in silence as they surrender to pallor and atrophy. The mirth of unending springtimes yields to desolate autumn twilight.
Remember the places of yesteryear and they shall not be forgotten.
Remember the places of yesteryear and they shall not be forgotten.