Maybe it’s about not wanting to let go. 
These floods of memories 
About places and times and such. 
And without a delete bottom 
They are for ever being rekindled. 
Perhaps these tortured memories are an assurance 
Of those places and people and times and such 
Had indeed existed and not misleading. 
These rekindled memories. 
But there is no comfort in them 
Without the smiles that touch my soul 
To welcome me home.