Passport Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Since then, my passport has collected nothing but dust.
Sitting on top my dresser, nowhere to go.
Bright colorful pages now dull fading.
Full of thoughts, the memories of places gone.
I often contemplate going back to one of my favorite places.
Remnants of it's essence still stains my lungs.
I find myself lost in thought,
Thinking of the many times I've kicked back and relaxed there.
Knocking back shot after shot of the times spent in bliss.
I've often thought of going back there, knocking the dust from that
old passport and getting it renewed.
But the more I think about it, Some things are better left as they are