Faded

The past, it is fading
As new memories I am making.

Is this good?
Or is this bad?

My old life grows fainter and vanishes
As I write new things on the pages

Do I let go?
Or do I not?

A year has past now- and much has changed,
My accent, my views, even my perspective rearanged.

Am I still the same?
Are you?

Like a ship pulling away, you grow faded and small;
my voice does the same as I reach out and call.

Can you hear me?
Can I hear you?

Communication loses its importance,
As I discover the power of distance.

Is the ship you?
Or is the ship me?

Whichever and whatever, you are fading...
Fading into the past.

Curious