Think about the pen and the fingerprints
romancing in the glistening dust against the sunlight.
The faded photographs with watermarks
of remembrances salvaged from the past.
Brittle to touch and slowly turning to ashes.
Think about the bookmarks of dried rose petals
and the faint smell imprinted to the pages,
rescued from the years of forgetting the ones
that mattered most. And the dreams that never
meant to be owned like the earth where I stand.
If the promise of coming back becomes a distant memory-
counting each sunrises and every new moons. Let hope
travel its feet while I sit beside by the window waiting.
For innocence will turn my graying hairs to white
and youth will leave me like the wilted leaves of autumn.
The season changes and they say time heals every wound.
But the scars of our love-thorned lives remains relived
in our book of days. I wish the summer winds will carry
the ashes until forgetting. I wish sleep will banish the things
which I failed to tell you when you left me. I moved on.
I have written letters with the pen until it dried out of ink
I have recorded our memories for fear that it will be lost too.
And my waning mind gave birth to words I have bookmarked
with fresh flowers that blooms from the same earth I will lay
with my dreams. I am not afraid anymore of the longest night
until tomorrow.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
