Thursday, June 17, 2010

Sometimes the past creeps up on me

Sometimes the past creeps up on me and taps me on the shoulder
Startled, I look back and forget that now I'm older

Your ghost is standing there, flirting with me like you always used to
But for all that, you might just as well be a clay gray statue

There's no touch, no warmth, no teasing eyes, none of those things at all
Just dour heartfelt hope for nothing more than an image I recall

Dreaming of the past, once again I make that crucial mistake
of yearning beyond all possibility for what was, and making my heart ache

Sometimes when I stand on those high wally cliffs, looking out over the sea
I remember you. Do you remember me?

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