I am lying on a cloud…
Pieces of your picture;
Lost and found surround my mind,
I am awake, but dreaming
Of the day you come back, seemingly
So far away I that I will wait forever.
One month passes, two then three…
It is scuffed and blurred,
And your voice is so soft it can hardly be heard.
But your presence is still here,
A living breathing prodigy,
Of when we last met.
A year goes by…
This faint image;
It dies, resuscitated by my mind,
And from the depths of consciousness
It blooms, branches shoot, blossoms emerge,
Alas, the thorns of time scourge.