Another Version of Perfect...

We fell from heights unknown, like feathers to the ground our eyes still closed from birth, the nooks behind our ears still wet. Dust settled, the concrete held our form. We would walk, talk and play, but we still didn’t know our names and would drown if put near water. We stand closely so we don’t forget what it’s like to be in this boat, no compass, no map, just a hand to hold.  Our eyes eventually open, but then we can’t hear the day, everything flows past us, no one has anything to say.  We scream and yell, but no sound is made, with only our memories to hold the love of words, slowly drifting away. When we get back to the shore the sun hurts our eyes, we forget what it's like to whisper inside a moment that’s passing us by. Our fingers old and wrinkled, our minds dull but full. 

Fear doesn’t touch us here because we know, it’s time to go back home.