Memories of you:
Your memories they draw me in
their magnitude, their ebb, their flow
With one hand I hold on to them
While I try hard to let them go.
This earth I live my life upon
This life that I call mine
Are all captive in these evocations
written in books of time.
Foundations are left barren,
in naked cold despair,
amidst reminiscent echoes,
that’s draping its fissure.
So here I stand alone and lost
In my bitter retent of you
with only framed illusions that
these remnants are true.
