nostalgia

sometimes i walk down the street and see my childhood home, and everytime i wonder if one day i will be able to see how it looks inside again.

it was a small, yellow house, the yard was big, with two beautiful trees in the each side of the wooden fence. 

i sightly remember wooden bench and table sitting between the trees, i remember i was always there, all the time, just staring at the other side of the fence and daydreaming looking at the field with tall grass and the blue sky in the mourning, wondering where would that place take me. 

i was so young, but the adventures in there couldn't escape from my mind, that's the only thing i want to remember from the past. 

the sunbaths with my sisters, the movies i cried watching with mum, old cell phone ringtones, sleeping in my dad's t-shirts. 

it looks simple, so common

but i just can't find the words to say how much this matters to me. 

the same old couple lives there since we moved, and sometimes i think of asking them if i can see the house for the last time ever. 

i would probably sound like a weirdo or a thief. 

i wonder why things change, i wonder if one day i will see things changing to the good 

or maybe go back to how i remember it was.