This moonlit night,
snow glowing with
luminescent memories,
I stroll along the old paths
thinking of the mystery you
made of me.
Identity molded like play dough
childhood laughter
leaching from the cracks of yesterday.
I can’t say anymore
who I am.
.
(another character perspective poem about Lydia & Dustin)
Shawn L. Bird 
indeed – the moonlight in your post is shining like a star, simply beautiful!
Thank you!
ah, the Old Path! insistent, persistent, unavoidable. the only one worth walking.
Who one is changes day by day. Yet the old path is always there for us.