The days grow shorter, the heat turned lukewarm and the outcome’s been chosen. The embers glow passionately, more seldom, only on the occasion an errant breeze is spoken. The ashes caught in the wind, caught up in the cooling effect of the daily this and that, so and so, and to and fro…as reasons to give up, and let it all go.
The light of day grew shorter. We opened the door on the cooler air to discover…it covered over the footprints with white and lavender, marking where we’ve come from together. Too beautiful and foolish to ask, to fall in love again, it just is what it is, taken apart, taken for granted, to live on only as memories of our time in the garden.
The days, they grow shorter, My Love. Not even asking for forever. Is there nothing we can do, to make them last just one more hour?
You’ve always kept an eye toward the window, a forever restless soul. I keep an eye toward the clock wishing it would go just evermore slow. But now I’m left wondering what to do. A touch now carries with it the burden of obligation, a kiss drained of it’s passion, words spoken in passing, tick-tocking down on this session, drawing to a close, on the season, and all we’ve known, letting it all go. Is this the best outcome for now, having already said goodbye some time ago?
I dreamed a dream, but now that dream has gone away from me. While I can hear your voice over the bass and cymbals, it’s not like before. The days are burning down to the inevitable, the curtains drawing to a close. Leaning forward, I smell the sweet, romanticized scent of memories stored from before, smiles and resting eyes that I adore. And, so I carefully remove the thorns on the past, hoping to make them last. Looking forward at a, now, forked path, glancing back at memories that made us love and laugh.
The days are slipping fast, growing shorter. Not even asking for forever. Is there nothing we can do to make them last just one more hour?
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