Boy

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…
This photograph;
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.