Image
They say that with time,
the senses lose their memory,
that the echo of your laughter fades into history.
But, ah, then, tell me, in a subtle voice,
why, when I close my eyes, do I still feel you here?
Your skin still dwells in my moonlit dreams,
like the gentle whisper of a timely breeze.
Every scent that floats, every shadow that dances,
are steps of your essence, in eternal trust.
The clocks stop, the day slips away,
but in my heart, your image is eternal.
Memories revive in the mist of the air,
like an ancient song that time does not snub.
I can feel your laughter, vibrating in the silence,
like a delicate thread that binds time and effort.
And though memory, like sand, slips away,
in every heartbeat, your love still murmurs.