Friday, October 22, 2010

Gathering Moss



The whiff of a smell long lost,
The rememberance of days gone by,
The taste of the forbidden fruit,
Bring it all rushing back.

The places are different now,
The friends all dispersed,
No lovers remain part of life,
It's all gone rushing past.

And you feel you are the only one,
Left alone with the memories,
Looking at the old photographs,
And listening to the melodies.

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