Years' Passing

Your memories Drain fluidly-Moonlit-covered pictures Dancing in my head. Once sparse details. Now, echoes from Summer breezes and Blanket conversations.

I escape your fleeting glimpse In the crowded grey halls With clouded grey faces.

If only your sultry voicebox would send loving intonations and Vibrations once more In my direction.

But oh well. Obladi, oblada, Life goes on.

So, Thanks for the bad times, They make the good times Taste even more bittersweet.