The clouds lingure on the horizon,
A fantasy fades into the mist,
An old love becomes numbing
At the very thought.
Yet as the very fabric of time
Grows older, wiser,
It leaves the memories to
Remember themselves,
To mock their own lies.
As life slows,
The past seems to appear
From the shadows,
Missery over welms
And again I am lost in the darkness
I had once fought away,
The memories,
Both good and bad,
Of you and I,
Yet my heart
Will never allow me to forget
The pain,
The love,
Every promise shared
And
Every promise broken.
Silver Moon Poetry
Poetry is what gets lost in translation ~Robert Frost~
