Distant memories

Distant memories are like a half-open window in the autumn wind; Every now and then a breeze comes, shakes the curtain, and the smell of those days fills the room again. The sound of laughter that no one else makes, The scent of fresh bread that my mother no longer bakes, An alley whose steps I have lost, And a song that only lives in my head. They are far, very far, But it is strange that sometimes they still come so close That they burn my eyes. Do you sometimes think about them too?