my past self

I turn around,
take a look back at my past self,
read old journals
relive near-forgotten memories
and I think of her.

I yearn for her,
the young girl who thought
she had it all figured out,
a naive romantic
a dreamer.

What would it be like
to step back into those worn out Adidas shoes
and take in again her optimistic hopes
of the future, of the world beyond?

I ache for her pain,
revel in her happiness.
Some parts of her remain
in me
and other parts
I wish to recover from the buried sand.