Like a fading candle,
Separation is inevitable,
Intimateness is nothing but a short giggle,
It rises like the brash sound of a loud cymbal,
and fades with a silent hush which is barely a whistle.
Memories of the past, oh the sweet jewel.
But it cannot patch a wall that is in crumble,
Nor give life to an old fossil.
I look at the once youthful,
And wonder where the promises of old have gone to,
Maybe just a thought which is merely hopeful,
But alas, forgotten like rusty shrapnel.
