Haibun: Sun Bleached Memories

Even the dead skins gets bleached in the desert sun. Walking away, what is left behind is left to the rays that never hide. Just as if I leave memories behind, they are subject to the heat of my current stories. Forever under the relentless sun, forever under the relentless narrative, what is there looks different because of the intensity of what it is subject to. But we walk on to better places anyways. 

what is left gets bleached
all that the sun reached, left for 
spring as winter breached