Time takes the shape of dozens of thieving magpies, come to steal away my shiny mental trinkets. They swoop and peck and squawk, pilfering my memories one at a time. Taking each bright, happy recollection away from me in a frenzied beat of wings and a jabbing, painful beak.
I can't protect them all. My reminiscences.
My reflexes slowed by age. My concentration broken by weariness.
Months after months of constant corvids cull my collection of remembrances.
I used to have so many happy thoughts, gathered about me like a dragon's hoard. But the murder is relentless. And all I have left is what I can shield; wearily, bodily.
Tarnished and cherished and frayed by adoration. The glimmer worn away, so that no one else would want it.

11:29 p.m. - 2015-01-14